


Acts of Mercy

by The_Nerd_Alert



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Dysmorphia, Body Worship, Bottom Bucky, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky is going to be a priest, Butt Plugs, Deacon Bucky, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Forbidden Love, Heart Break, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Minor abuse warning, Misuse of a confessional, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Premature Ejaculation, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Self Confidence Issues, Sex Worker Steve, Sexual exploration, Tags will be updated, Top Steve Rogers, Virgin bucky barnes, illicit love affair, lots of feels, mild PTSD, off screen abuse, priest/Sex worker, roleplaying, shy bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 135,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nerd_Alert/pseuds/The_Nerd_Alert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reverend Barnes knew his heart belonged to the church, ever since that night he lost his arm in a fatal car accident. He knew it like he knew his own name. With only a few short months to go before James was ordained an official priest, he knew his life would be laid out perfectly for him. A servant of God. A preacher. The cornerstone of compassion he wanted to instill in the lives of those he knew.</p><p>So naturally, rescuing a disheveled man standing on his doorstep from thugs that wished to cause him harm, would be the logical, God-fearing act of a man who only wished to save those who needed saving, right? What he hadn't counted on, was the absolute hold this man took on his heart from the moment he laid eyes on him. Steve was strong. Steve was smart, and Steve was beautiful inside and out.</p><p>There was just one small catch: Steve was a sex worker, and one that had sworn to bend James to his every whim, no matter the stakes at large. </p><p>It should have been easy for James to walk away. It should have. If only he hadn't fallen in love with him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IT IS: THE ANTICIPATED SEX WORKER/PRIEST STORY EVERYONE WAS LOOKING FOR *ROUND OF APPLAUSE!!!*
> 
> So from the time I posted the original prompt on my tumblr, to now, I did alter major parts of the plot to fit with my ideas. I'm happy these changes were made. I think this story is going to be insanely fun to write, and I really can't wait for people to get a chance to read this. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave kudos and comments on this. I've been dying to write a taboo story for awhile, and I really couldnt pass up the opportunity when it arose.
> 
> LETS ALL BLAME SEBASTIAN'S HALLOWEEN COSTUME, LADIES AND GERMS. HE IS A BAD INFLUENCE ON ME. BAD. BAD. BAD.
> 
> Enjoy guys! :D

**October 15th, 2015**

All around the congregation, the halls of the ancient Chapel echoed with the solemn cadence of a hymn. The patrons filled the halls with their voices and the great organ, set high above the throng in its alcove, droned on in ethereal chorus until the very walls of the chapel seemed to vibrate with its great bass and treble voice. The song seemed to drag on for hours, though Reverend James knew this song by heart to know better. He’d heard it enough in his lifetime to satisfy any good Church-goer. He’d sung it enough that he knew every cadence, every missed note, and every incorrect word the congregation spewed forth to the heavens.

 _God_ , he hated this song.

When the last notes of _“All People That On Earth Do Dwell’_ finally came to an end, the officiating priest stepped forward, gesturing to the congregation to take their seats. Reverend James stared down at the floor from where he knelt, his hands wrung together nervously. He could feel the leather of his left glove turning thin against the friction of his fingertips digging into his hand, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Instead, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raising up in anxiety as he realized…

‘ _Shit… I’m actually doing this… what am I doing…’_

A throat cleared above him, and James looked up, his blue eyes wide in surprise. Before him, the priest shot the young deacon a dark look; at his side, the elderly Bishop simply smiled, his flowing robes hanging from his gaunt figure like a sail. He was the only one that looked down upon James with any sort of consideration. James felt a little calmer as he smiled up at the Bishop before him.

But no less guilty.

 _‘I can do this…’_ James muttered, closing his eyes as he waited for the Bishop to begin his ordination. _‘I have to do this. I’ve worked too long and too hard to give up on this. I can’t back out now…’_

“Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” The Bishop recited, holding his hands out to the chapel with reverence.

The congregation replied in kind, their words droll and robotic as they recited the proper response. “Blessed be his kingdom, now and forever. Amen.”

James inhaled through his nose, trying his damnedest to push traitorous thoughts from his mind. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. There was just no other way around it. He’d already sworn his life to the Church. He’d been following this path since he was 9 years old, receiving his first Communion, his Confirmation…

And yet…

James’ eyes slid shut as his mind wandered into relaxation. He knew it was a mistake the minute he felt a phantom tickle run up the back of his spine, but it was too late. He’d already lost himself the minute his mind’s eye latched onto piercing blue, a shock of blond hair, and an infectious smile. James could feel his skin heating up under the thick collar of his robe as he thought of strong arms, defined abs, and the softest lips James had ever felt in his life. He succumbed to his memory, letting himself fall deeper into his mind, smiling a secret smile just for them…

_‘Breathe, Buck…’ Steve muttered, his lips ghosting over his bare chest. James whimpered, looking down through the veil of his own eyelashes as he watched Steve’s head hovered just above his belly. That smile was so infectious, so dangerously sinful…_

_Damn it all. James tumbled head first, throwing his vows to the wind without hesitation, and gave himself up to Steve; gave him everything he was._

_“Steve…!” James gasped, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he felt those plush, silky lips drag over his hipbones. His body betrayed him; his thighs trembled viciously as he bucked up towards that warm mouth, savoring even the tiniest brush of lips against his cock head as Steve enveloped his length in the warmth of his mouth. James keened, fighting the urge to thrust up into that hot, wet throat and fuck his face. How he fought it, and yet he was losing, so terribly._

_His lover chuckled around his cock before pulling off of his dick with a wet pop. “What do you know… I turned a priest into a sex maniac,” Steve chuckled, wiping the back of his hand across his lips from where a line of spit had dangled precariously. He looked up at James, his wicked blue eyes dancing happily as he cradled himself between the deacon’s thighs._

_“I’m not… a priest, Steve!” James gritted out, his teeth clenched as he fought the urge to grab Steve’s head and bury his cock in his throat again. “I’ve told you how many times!”_

_“Hmmm right… but calling you Reverend in the sack ain’t exactly sexy. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Steve mused. He rested his chin on James’ hip, smiling up at him. “How many times have we boned already since we met? I’m pretty sure you’ve been keeping count.”_

_“12,” James sighed in resignation, letting his head fall to the pillow beneath his head with a whimper. “Oh, God, hurry up...”_

_“Tsk, tsk. Taking the Lord’s name in vain, Father,” Steve chided, slapping his palm across the meat of James’ thigh. “For that, I think your penitence should be another go around. Lucky 13, huh? And I’m gonna keep calling you Father. Get over it.”_

_James whined, tossing his head on the pillow until his hair came undone from the tie at his skull. His dark hair lay askew on the pillow beneath his head and he panted for breath; his fingertips dug into the mattress at his side and he groaned, biting his lower lip until he could feel the skin break between his teeth._

_Steve chuckled, sliding up the bed just enough to grab hold of the deacon’s trousers; gripping the black cloth by the hem, Steve yanked James’ pants down his thighs fully, baring his lower half to the cold air around them. “You got it in?”_

_James hissed, feeling his hips jarred slightly by the sudden gesture. He peeked one eye open and looked up at Steve, feeling his cheeks flushing dark red. Christ, he couldn't get over how Steve looked at him. All crass and business… and yet his eyes gave absolutely everything away._

_Steve cared for him; far more than James could have ever expected to experience in his lifetime. How could he have been so stupid to think a vow of Chastity could forever wipe away the desire of wanting to see someone look at him like he was the most beautiful painting on the planet?_

_Oh right, he’d been asked a question. “Yes…” James whispered, biting his lip. Of course he had it in. Steve wouldn’t like it if James didn’t…_

_Steve softened, smiling down at him, as he carefully lifted James’ right thigh. Reaching beneath him, Steve’s fingers ghosted over the base of the plug in James’ ass, and gave it a little tap. “Got it in there nice and deep don’t you… perfect. You look fuckin’ beautiful like this, you know?”_

_James cried out, the sound choked and feral in his throat. He tensed up, feeling the electricity singing through his veins as the plug in his ass brushed up against the nerves Steve had shown him were the greatest gift James never knew he had. He could feel the plug nudging against his prostate and he keened again; holy hell, he was close to cumming already!_

_“Shh, Father…” Steve cooed. He leaned down, carefully wrapping his fingers around the back of James’ neck. He tugged him up just slightly, and their lips crashed together in a wicked dance. Tongues darted and licked, claiming each other in a desperate kiss, and before James even knew it, Steve had the plug worked out of him, and dropped to the mattress next to him. He felt so empty, so… stretched._

_“Steve… please…!” James begged, biting Steve’s lips as he whimpered for release. “Please…”_

_“Please, what?” Steve asked, his lips cracking into a dangerous smile. Already, he was sliding between James’ thighs, his own legs propping up the deacon’s ass. His cock hovered just inches away from his prize, but Steve held very still. “Please what, Father?”_

_James flushed; now Steve was just being cheeky. He’d sworn, from day one, that he would get James to actually curse once in awhile, especially while they fucked. James had yet to crack. But… perhaps he could oblige him this time. Maybe Steve would like it. Lord knew, James would do anything to make Steve happy. “Please… please, fuck me.”_

_Steve groaned, pressing his lips to James’ bare chest, just above his heart. “I knew you fuckin’ had it in you…” he chuckled. Looking up at James, Steve beamed at him. “You got such a pretty mouth… say it again…” With that, Steve rocked his hips forward, nudging his cock against his hole. James accepted him easily, his stretched muscles sliding over his cock like a warm glove. “Say it again, Father…”_

_“Oh GOD!” James cried, feeling his warmth sheath around Steve’s cock and his walls swallowed him up readily. “Fuck me! Fuck me, Steve! Shit!”_

_‘Just for you, Father…” Steve crooned. He rocked his hips forward, thrusting into his channel with a throaty groan of his own. James gasped, his eyes watering with the utter pleasure coursing through his veins. This was it… this was Heaven. If James ever doubted its existence in his life, this right here… was everything he needed to know it was real…._

“Reverend Barnes!”

James’ eyes snapped open, a gasp leaving him. He looked up from where he was knelt, seeing the priest and Bishop staring down at him. His already flushed cheeks turned even darker red and he looked down, biting his lower lip in shame. What was wrong with him… fantasizing about Steve now!? It was over. He was doing this for Christ’s sake!

He was in a damn church! How could he be thinking about sex while he was in a _church_?!

“Can we please move on with this?” The priest hissed, glaring down at the shamed Deacon. James nodded, daring only to look up at the two of them for a brief moment before his head lowered again.

“That’s very good then. Carrying on now,” The Bishop nodded, clearing his own throat before he glanced up at the Director of Ordinands and smiled. “Where were we… ah, yes. Has Reverend Barnes been selected in accordance with the canons of this Church? And do you believe his manner of life to be suitable to the exercise of this ministry?”

The Director nodded, placing his hand on James’ shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “We certify to you that Reverend Barnes has satisfied the requirements of the canons, and we believe him to be qualified for this order.”

James flinched, looking down at his clasped hands in front of his waist. He could still feel the phantom tickle of Steve’s fingers laced with his; he could still smell his cologne even now. He wanted nothing more than to curl up against his chest and soak up his affections right then and there; forget that this was even happening and seek out the comfort and adoration that Steve showered upon him in spades.

But there was no Steve and no comfort to be had. Not this time.

The Bishop nodded to the Director, and then glanced down at James. He smiled at him, giving the deacon a comforting nod, before turning to face him fully. This was it. This was the moment…

“Will you be loyal to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of Christ as this Church has received them? And will you, in accordance with the canons of this Church, obey your bishop and other ministers who may have authority over you and your work?”

The question wasn’t simple. The question was way more complicated than James ever expected to find it. He knew what they were asking of him. He’d been preparing for this for most of his life. He should have been reciting his answer, right then and there…

Steve was gone. There was no going back to those traitorous sins in his life. He was already a damned man as it was. He had to move on, and perhaps beg for mercy when his time came at long last….

* * *

**  
January 21st, 2002**

Bucky smiled as he leaned against the car door of his parents’ car. Next to him, his little sister, Rebecca, chatted away on her shiny new cell phone she’d gotten for Christmas that year, excited that she finally had her first flip-phone of her very own. She had been ashamed that she was the only 13 year old girl in her class that didn’t have a cell phone of her own and had begged their parents for months for one of her very own. Ever since Christmas, the damn thing had been glued to the side of her head, though Bucky couldn’t help but think she looked too damn adorable, excited and giddy and just so _Rebecca_.

But it was Sunday, and that meant no cell phones or distractions. At least for an hour. Knowing how his parents would react, Bucky smiled at his little sister, reaching over and ruffling his left hand through her hair with a loving gesture. “Becks, get off the phone. We’re almost there.”

Rebecca whined, slapping her older brother’s hand away from her head. “Maa!!! Bucky’s ruffling my hair again, it’s gonna look messy for Church!”

Bucky looked over at her, his eyes wide before his smile turned dangerous. He reached over again and really scrubbed his fingers through her hair, messing up the dark curls with his fingertips as he teased her from his side of the car. “Becky’s probably talking to her _boyfriend_ isn’t she?!” he asked, grinning stupidly at her as his little sister squealed in dismay and swatted at him wildly from her corner of the car.

Winifred sighed, looking back to her two children with a mild annoyance. “Honestly you two. James you’re 21 years old, please stop acting like a child. And you,” She said, pointing to her youngest. “Cell phone, off. And if you’re not going to behave, you’re leaving it in the car.”

“Mom!” Rebecca gasped, her eyes wide as she clutched her phone to her coat-bedecked chest. “It’ll freeze out here!”

“Then I suggest you do as your mother says and put it away,” George spoke up, looking back at her from the rear-view mirror. His eyes darted over to his son, and he shook his head. “James. Straighten your tie.”

“Yes, dad.” Bucky said, reaching up and adjusting the knot in his tie. The passengers fell silent after that, the sounds accented by the wheels of the car cutting through layers of slush and ice on the road as they made their way across the sleepy Indiana town towards their Sunday service.

All seemed well for the time being. Bucky looked out the window of the car, watching as buildings zipped past in succession, a blur of lights and bricks in the cold January morning. He could feel the car zooming along the icy road, and he looked up to see his father approaching a yellow light in the intersection.

The car decelerated as they began to slow down, and Bucky could hear the brakes groaning against the pressure of slowing down the car on the slippery road. It should have been that easy. They’d just had the brakes checked a few months ago.

But they hadn’t accounted for the patch of black ice.

It happened so fast. At first, they were slowing down, readying to stop at the intersection and wait their turn, just like they should have. One second, they were safe and sound in the warmth of the car, listening to the radio playing on low.

The next second, the car fishtailed across the ice, and the squeal of the tires against the frozen road echoed in the car. It would have been okay, had the semi-truck not have been making its way towards its own green-light, barreling down the road at full tilt. It would have been okay, if that fucking black ice hadn’t been there.

Bucky saw the impact coming first. He screamed, throwing his left arm out to shield his little sister from the impact as the car skidded through the intersection and straight into the path of the semi-truck. Screams; that’s all Bucky could hear. His mother shrieking for George to stop the car. His baby sister screaming at the top of her lungs in fright. The blaring of the truck’s air horn as it careened down the roared towards them.

A crunch of metal.

Searing white hot pain up Bucky’s arm.

Then nothing…

~*~

Darkness. Pitch black darkness. That’s all Bucky saw. He could hear talking in the background, frantic voices shouting to each other. His side was warm. Impossibly warm and sticky. He could feel nothing at all; just a solid, tingling numbness that overtook him from head to toe.

Fuck he was dizzy.

The first thing he did was reach out for his sister… but his arm met nothingness. The first thing he saw, was the flashing of red and blue lights. The first thing he smelled was copper.

His whole left side felt warm and wet. His whole right side felt cold and frozen.

His vision cleared a bit, and Bucky turned his head. All he saw was his sister’s head laying in his lap, her body flung from the seat and sprawled across the roof of the car. _He_ was on the roof of the car.

His arm was on the ground, just beyond the shattered glass of the back window, and the stench of engine smoke ebbed up into the cold air around them, floating up from the guts of the car pointed up at the sky, where the roof of the SUV should have been instead. Shreds of his suit coat fluttered in the breeze, mixed with the mangled redness of blood and flesh where his arm used to be attached to his shoulder. There was blood everywhere, and yet he still felt no pain at all.

He knew without even looking up, that his parents were dead. He knew, even without his arm, that he wouldn’t find a pulse in his sister’s throat. He knew, without even moving, that he was dying too, readying to join the three of them in peace. Bucky didn't cry. He didn’t scream or beg for help. This was alright. His family was dead. He was dying, too. He could accept that. He’d been a good boy all his life, a God fearing man, and a patient, kind, and gentle person. He knew where he was going.

So as he lay his head down on the roof of the car, feeling his own blood ebbing into his clothing and pooling beneath him. Bucky closed his eyes. He waited; waited for death to come find him and take him Home.

That’s when he heard it; a deep voice... a man’s voice, calling to him. Bucky opened his eyes, looking up from where he lay, only to see the mangled metal of the car being ripped away from the side. He saw a hand, gentle, pale and cool, reaching for him. He heard that voice again, soothing him, telling him everything was going to be alright.

Bucky blinked, his eyes landing on a kind face, haloed in brilliant white light. The face smiled down at him, reaching for him, telling him all was well. Bucky smiled back. He reached out his good hand to his Savior, beaming happily as he reached out for Him.

Bucky blacked out when their hands met. He didn’t know if this was what it felt like to die, but it didn’t matter. He was Home.

* * *

 

**13 years later**

**March 10th, 2015**

James gasped, his eyes flying open as he stared up at the ceiling above him. He panted heavily, breathing through his nose to slow his heart rate down and bring himself a moment of peace. James could feel his chest constricting, the phantom pain in his shoulder rising to the surface again. James hissed, reaching over and running his hand over the stump at this side; the warm feeling of smooth, raised scars caught his palm, reminding him that he was indeed alive and well. A quarter short on limbs, but alive, breathing, and living to this day.

“What time is it…” James grumbled, turning over to look at the clock on his side table. The table was barren, save for the simple alarm clock and the side table lamp. On the face of the clock, the red numbers flashed brightly in the dusky light of early morning. 4:15. Still 3 hours until he had to wake, but James knew he wasn’t falling back to sleep anytime soon.

Groaning to himself, James kicked the covers off of his lap and sat up. He scrubbed his fingers through his long hair, pushing the strands away from his eyes before standing from the bed and stretching his back. He could hear his spine popping in a few places, and the tension in his left shoulder had not abated at all from the night before. He really needed to make that appointment with his massage therapist. He’d been skipping out over the last few weeks, and his back was beginning to protest that negligence. Maybe Bruce had an appointment open this week.

James yawned, his fist curled in front of his lips as he passed through the threshold of his bedroom to the adjacent hallway of his little home. Like his bedroom, the rest of his little brownstone was bereft of many decorations, befitting the habits of many clergymen. He had a few pictures on the walls, mostly consisting of his late family members and those he’d reconnected with over the years and above the doorway to his home a small crucifix hung quietly, brass and wood melded together in the visage of Christ. He had a few sparse tables across the hallway, a potted plant in the corner, and an umbrella stand and coat stand by the front door. His living room was quiet and calm, dark brown wood and decorated with only a sofa, a chair, and a coffee table. He had a bookshelf along the far wall next to the window, and the fireplace across from his sofa was cold and ashen. He’d forgotten to clean out the pit the night before.

The only thing in his apartment that stood out against the simple elegance of a man that did not live in luxury, was the large flat-screen television that stood as the centerpiece to his living room. While James was proud of owning only the bare essentials of a living household, he did enjoy catching up on television when he could. He didn’t dare admit it to any of his fellow clergymen, but James had splurged and spent quite the pretty penny the year before on a high-def screen that stood proudly on the wall just to the side of his fireplace. While James had not specifically taken a vow of poverty in his time as a Deacon, he did pride himself in keeping his earthly possessions to a strict minimum.

Though- and he’d never admit this out loud- he really really damn well liked his TV.

James sighed, scrubbing his hand across his stubbled face as he slipped into the bathroom. He shrugged out of his grey t-shirt and laid it out on the sink top, before turning to his bathroom closet. Swinging the door open, James saw his prosthetic hanging against the wall, shiny chrome and extremely expensive. God, he hated putting this thing on, but at least the damn contraption gave him almost 100% use of his stump once again. Keeping his silent complaining to a minimum, James grabbed the leather harness that supported the weight of his prosthetic, and wrapped it around his torso. He secured the leather piece around his right shoulder and pulled the straps across his chest, clasping the leather buckle over his chest and tightened the whole thing until it was secure around his torso like a sling, ready to snap onto the topmost portion of the arm. Once he’d done that, James picked up the prosthetic and carefully unplugged it from the outlet where it was charging.

This part was always a pain. Hefting the damn thing high enough to get it attached to his shoulder harness was never fun, and now that he was half-asleep, James was sure that he was going to miss at least a half a dozen times before he got it attached right.

Seven tries later, James heard the click of the metal clasps securing to the sides of the arm. Exactly four seconds later, he heard the hinges begin to whirr and buzz to life, and he looked down with a smile to see the metal prosthesis moving on its own. Even three years later, James was still not used to seeing his prosthetic moving and functioning like his old arm used to. Sure, it wasn’t exactly “normal” looking, but the lovely engineers that had designed it had gone to great lengths to make it look as human as possible. The outer shell was contoured at the bicep and forearm to resemble the build of a grown male’s arm, and the shiny shell did wonders to hide the intricate, mechanical wiring and hinges that moved by pure contact interaction with what remained of his bicep and tricep muscles.

The hand… now, the hand was the part that interested James the most. He’d always found himself enraptured by what science could accomplish, and the feat of his prosthetic was no exception. At the wrist of the prosthetic, the engineers had explained that his hand would rotate and turn given the information his own body would provide for it; the only downside was his wrist could only flex as far as a 45 degree angle back and forth. Each finger moved independently; they curled and flexed almost like a normal hand and he could even type on a keyboard once again.

His thumb was the trickiest part of the whole thing; neither knuckle in his thumb bent like the other knuckles did of his other four fingers, but the thumb at least flexed at the base enough for him grab onto things. Thank God he was right handed. He could hold utensils with his left hand, but the finer motor skills like writing and folding were still almost nonexistent. Learning how to tie his shoes with only his right hand and four independently functioning fingers had been a challenge for sure.

Twisting and flexing his left arm to make sure it had calibrated correctly after its overnight charge, James shrugged into a sweat-shirt and slipped out of his sleep bottoms into a pair of running pants. He sat down on the sofa and snatched up his running shoes, carefully tying the laces and getting to his feet again. He didn’t usually catch his friend, Sam, out for a run this early in the morning, but, perhaps he wouldn’t mind a bit of a jog now.

Feeling a bit perkier than before, James grabbed his cell phone from the kitchen counter where he had left it to charge the night before, and dialed up Sam’s number. He held the phone to his left shoulder with his ear as he reached into the fridge to grab himself some orange juice and an apple from the crisping drawer; he listened to the ringing on his line, waiting for Sam to pick up.

At the 12th ring, the line connected, and James fought the urge to chuckle as he heard Sam’s sleepy voice come over the line in a muttered curse.

_“Your most holy Reverend, our grandest clergyman of Brooklyn, why the hell are you calling me at 4:30 in the morning?”_

James laughed, setting the container of orange juice down on the kitchen counter and fetched a glass from the cupboard. “You know, I believe it’s a spiritual infraction to be sarcastic to a Deacon, Sam… I’d have to look into the specifics, but you’re probably committing a mortal sin.”

 _“Yeah, well it’s also a mortal sin to wake up a man before 6 am,”_ Sam shot back, though his tone held no venom _. “Why are you up so early anyway?”_

James hesitated, looking down at the counter in front of him. “Uhm… just… couldn’t sleep anymore I guess. Wanted to blow off some steam.”

_“... you had the dream again, didn’t you?”_

James smiled, shaking his head. “You know, when did I think it was a good idea to start scheduling to see my best friend as my therapist?”

 _“Because you don’t trust anyone else. And that’s cool, you know. I don’t mind. Just... “_ Sam paused, sounding a bit unsure. _“Are you okay?”_

“Yes…” James sighed, taking a sip of orange juice and swallowing it down. “I’m alright. Just… need to run, to get my mind off of it.”

_“I get you. Same spot? I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”_

James nodded, grunting out an affirmative sound. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in 15 minutes.”

_“Alright. And Bucky?”_

James paused, but didn’t speak up. He knew what was coming anyway.

_“... Happy birthday.”_

James didn’t answer right away. He knew Sam meant well, but he still didn’t really like thinking about such a horrible day. When his parents and sister had been killed that cold January morning, James had stopped celebrating his birthday entirely. His 22nd came and went, and he had still been in the hospital in therapy when it happened. 23 came, and James still didn’t celebrate it. He felt no need to enjoy such a day when his family was not around to share in it with him.

13 years later, and 35 years old, James didn’t even remember what a birthday was like anymore. But he couldn’t dismiss Sam’s good will like that. Plastering on a fake smile, James tightly replied. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With that, James hung up, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He really didn’t know how long he and Sam were going to be out in the cold; he was pretty sure there was still snow on the ground at that moment. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to get out of his house and run, get his mind off of his dream, and focus on the day ahead. He didn’t really have many plans that he knew of, but he knew he’d find something to pass the time with. Maybe he could just catch up on some light reading, go to the grocery store. Maybe stop by the shelter and see if they needed any extra hands that day.

As he thought about what his day could entail, James felt a little bit better. Grabbing an earmuff band, his running jacket and some gloves, James slipped out of his living room and to the hallway that would take him outside. He could feel the chill of the early morning air already, and he suppressed a shiver as he stepped out to the cold streets. Slush dotted the ground in wet patches, and there was a thin sheen of frost adorning the bushes outside his house; James shivered viciously. He fought the urge to stare at the melting snow as his dream came back to him, threatening to overtake him and send him scurrying back into the warmth of his home to avoid it.

Shaking his head, James took off at a run down the street, clouds of warm air puffing from his lips as he jogged to get his body temperature up. He felt a little better as he felt his heart rate going back up again; he made it to the end of the block and turned the corner to head to his meeting place with Sam, pushing his thoughts down and focusing only on breathing in and out, keep the pace, James...

Of course, just as he turned the corner, he ran smack into a body standing at the corner of the building, and he stumbled back with a surprised shout. He very nearly fell over backwards, but he caught himself on the building, hoping like hell that the metallic clang of his hand against the bricks had been muffled enough by the glove he was wearing. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he gasped, looking up to see who he’d run into.

It was a man, and James found himself staring at the other with surprise on his features. The man was tall, surprisingly so, and well built. The first thing James noticed about this man was the shock of piercing blue eyes and a head of messily styled blond hair. The man was stunningly handsome, and wore the most irked expression James had ever seen in his life. It made sense; he’d run right into him after all.

The second thing James noticed was what this man was wearing. He had on a pair of thin jeans that hugged his thighs and calves, a pair of leather boots, and a white tank top. The thin, sleeveless shirt showed off a few dark tattoos against his shoulders, and script written across his left clavicle in elegant, swooping cursive. James didn’t look close enough at the tattoo to read what it said. He was too focused on the sheer lack of cover the man was wearing.

“Hey, whoa! You might wanna watch out where you’re goin’,” the man huffed, straightening himself out as he stared at the Deacon with annoyance clearly written across his face.

James didn’t let this man’s outburst get to him. He knew Brooklyn well; most of the populace was definitely not what one would call “polite”. But he had run into him without looking, and James felt a wiggle of remorse in his chest, both for the unnecessary collision and to see that this man was struggling not to shiver in the cold morning air. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t see you there,” James replied, giving the man a remorseful look. “Uhm… are you alright?”

“Yup. Perfectly fine,” the man replied, brushing his arms off; James knew well enough to read into it that the man was simply trying to put some friction back into his skin and warm himself up.

“Uhm.. aren't you cold?” James asked, looking the man over. Clearly, the man had been through something that night. His clothing was wrinkled and damp on the bottoms of his jeans, and his hair was standing up in odd spikes.

The man paused, looking back at James before his eyes widened. He snorted, and held his hand out to him. “Before you even ask, I chose to come out here like this. Trust me, I ain’t cold.”

James stared at him, his face falling. He didn’t like seeing this man looking cold, but clearly he was not going to accept any help from anyone. Too bad for this man, he wasn’t going to get his way around the Deacon that night. If anyone knew James Barnes, they knew he was a stubborn mule when he got an idea into his head, and this time, James knew he was not leaving this man here without at least something to keep him warm. “You don’t look like you’re not cold. You do realize it’s not even 40 degrees out, right?”

“Uh... yeah?” The guy said, gesturing to the slowly melting frost around them. “I know that. I don’t exactly need a weather report, dude.”

“Then take this,” James said. he shrugged out of his red jogging coat and held it up to the man. “Take it. You look like you need it more than me.”

The man stared at him for a moment before barking a laugh. “Thanks for the concern, but I don’t want your coat, and I really don’t need any ‘help’. I’m not a homeless guy, alright? I got a house. I chose to come out here like this, so please don’t patronize me.”

James bristled, but his hand never dropped from where he was holding the coat up. “I didn’t say you were homeless. I said you needed this more than me, and there’s nothing wrong with helping a person even when they don’t think they need it. There’s no point in you getting sick, standing out here doing your business.” James held the coat up to him, his eyes hardening in determination. “Take. The coat.”

The man stared at James for a moment, his irritation melting away to shock. His eyes darted down to the coat in his hand for a moment before he resigned himself and sighed. “Fine…” Reaching out, the man took the coat from him and slipped it on. James tried to suppress the triumphant smile that wanted to cross his lips when he saw the man settle into the warmth of the coat with an open appreciation. “Thanks.”

James smiled up at him and nodded. “You’re welcome. I don’t expect to see the coat back again. I don’t mind that. All I ask is that you pay the good deed forward.” James turned, ready to head down the block that he had originally been intending to take. But before he made it a few more steps, he turned back and smiled at the man. The man had settled back against the brick wall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he watched him with a curious look on his face. “Oh and… stay safe. Until you’re done with your evening, just…” James stopped, and shook his head. “Never mind. Whenever you’re done, just keep safe, alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The man asked, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. It surprised James to see how stunned he was that James might have an inkling of what it was he was doing exactly. James just chuckled and shook his head.

“I don’t need an explanation. Just stay safe, alright? God bless.”

Without another word, James turned away from him and jogged down the street, leaving the man to his business. James didn’t really have an idea of what it was that sex workers went through… but something about this one in particular, James just felt the need to grant him his hopes for safety the rest of his evening.

James did his best to forget about the man when he met up with Sam for their jog. He did his best to not think about him and wonder if that man was warm and comfortable. James did his best to forget about piercing blue eyes and a chiseled, muscled body that looked far more beautiful than anything James had ever seen in his life.

James didn’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

The clock struck nine by the time James returned home for the final time that evening. After his morning jog with Sam, James had returned home to shower and dress for his day to come. He subconsciously took the same way back to see if the man he’d run into that morning was still working the corner, but found the corner completely empty after all. James didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He tried not to spend too long dwelling on it.

After he’d showered and dressed, James went about his day as normally as he possibly could. He managed to get in breakfast at the coffee shop with his fellow Deacons to discuss the upcoming Sunday services and who would be attending to stand in for that weekend. James managed to get his grocery shopping done for the day, and set out a crockpot of stew for dinner that evening. Once he’d done that, James went back out and returned to the church to speak with his seminary instructors about his final processes to become an ordained priest; he only had a few months left in his process, and with each day that passed James was becoming more and more excited for his upcoming ordination. It would be a grand occasion that all of his friends were invited to, and James couldn’t be happier that his time in the seminary would finally be through in just a few short months.

With the day finally over, James returned home, eager to remove his prosthetic and give his back a break from the heavy contraption that weighed him down. Maybe he’d take a good, long soak in the bath to relax his muscles. While he didn’t often celebrate his birthday, James felt that perhaps a little bit of pampering that evening was well deserved after all.

Stepping into the brownstone building and shrugging out of his peacoat, James hung the corduroy garment up on the coat rack and set off for the kitchen to check on the status of his dinner for that night. He removed the lid from the crockpot and instantly the warm, comforting smell of chicken stew wafted into the kitchen, making his mouth water with delight. “Perfect…” he murmured, picking up a wooden spoon and giving the contents of his dinner a good stir. He ladled out a portion into a bowl, and stared down into the crockpot, wondering if perhaps he’d made too much that evening. Ah well, it would give him something to warm up the next day. Waste not, and all that.

But just as James sat down at the kitchen table with his food to eat, he heard a frantic knock coming from his front door. James paused, looking up at the hallway for a moment and briefly wondering if he’d actually heard it; the knock was so fast, he wasn’t entirely sure that his tired mind was playing tricks on him. He waited, listening carefully to see if he heard the knock again.

Not ten seconds later it returned, this time more insistent and much louder than it had been a moment before. “What on Earth…” he murmured, getting to his feet. He carefully slipped his black glove back onto his prosthetic hand and straightened his clerical collar before setting off for the door. Whoever this was, they must have seriously needed his attention right at that moment.

James strode across the room and approached his front door, wondering what this could possibly be about. He didn’t bother to check the peephole of his door and simply opened it, his mouth opening to ask whoever was on the other side what their business was. However, the moment he even so much as turned the latch, the door was flying open in his face, causing him to stumble backwards with a grunt of surprise. Someone bustled right into his home and slammed the door shut, and James looked up to see who the hell it was.

“Oh my...” he said, his eyebrows raising in surprise. It was the man he’d seen earlier that morning.

“Shh! Keep it down, don’t talk!” The blond man whispered, turning to peer out the peephole. His hands were pressed to the wood of the door, and James noted with surprise that his knuckles were scraped and red. In fact, the blond man looked quite under the weather; he was sporting what appeared to be the beginnings of a black eye, a fat lip, and a scrape along his temple that was still weeping blood down the side of his pale face. His clothing looked like it had been haphazardly thrown back on, and the shoulder of James’ running jacket actually had a small tear in it. What the hell had he just been through?!

“Uh… sir. Are you… are you alright?” James asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder. But instead of a response, the man simply reached out, clasping his hand over James’ mouth to silence him.

“Shut UP!” he hissed, looking back at him with a scowl on his face; however, it only took him a moment to recognize James; when he did, he groaned in frustration, thumping his forehead against the door. “Oh uh… hey there. Again...” he grumbled, sounding far more annoyed than he really should. He peeked out the peephole again, and cursed. “Goddammit! Fuckin’ go away, you hairy ape!”

James coughed, curling his fist in front of his mouth as his cheeks flushed red. Hell, how he hated that curse more than anything. “U-uhm… I’d.. be careful what you say in front of some people…” he muttered, looking down at his clothing.

The man turned his head to really look at James again and his eyes ghosted over his figure quickly. He openly took stock of James’ black clothing and tab collar, and he cursed under his breath. “A priest… it _had_ to be a priest…” he sighed. He turned away from the door and paced the small hallway before stopping in front of James and giving him a pointed look. “Okay, okay, I’ll explain just do me a favor and keep quiet until they leave.”

“Until who leaves?” James asked, sounding slightly alarmed. He had a pretty good idea of what this man was talking about, but he really wanted to hear an explanation for himself.

But before the man could explain, a furious banging came from the door once again and both men looked up at the door. Neither moved nor breathed for a moment, and James felt the hair on his neck standing up in anxiety. What in God’s name did this man get himself into and dragged to his door?

“OPEN UP! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, YA THIEVING LITTLE FUCK!” an angry voice shouted from the other side of the door; the voice was decidedly male and deep, and James knew without a doubt that this stranger banging on his door was a client of the man he was currently standing next to. The atmosphere didn’t even so much as move as the two men stood together quietly, waiting to see if the assailant would leave James’ door. No such luck; instead of leaving, the banging on his door only grew more insistent and louder, as if he could break down the door if he smashed his fist into the wood hard enough.

Fine. Enough was enough.

“This is ridiculous,” James whispered, looking up at the blond man next to him with determination on his face. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Are you crazy!?” his companion hissed; the sex worker grabbed his shoulders and steered him away from the door for a moment. “Don’t you dare rat me out, Preach, I swear to God..!”

“I’m not going to do that!” James sighed, brushing his hands off of his shoulders. He took a deep breath to center himself and he met the blond’s gaze; he didn’t move, his eyes searching the taller man’s for a moment before he offered him a comforting nod. He really didn’t know why, but he wanted nothing more than to assure him that everything would be alright; James was not going to let this man get hurt if he could help it. “Just… trust me.”

The blond didn’t move an inch. The two of them shared a staring contest for the briefest of moments before the sex worker finally gave up. He stared at James for a long moment with pleading eyes, before stepping back. “Don’t sell me out.”

James didn’t answer; instead, he nodded to him and turned to face their “guest”. He straightened his shirt out and cleared his throat before carefully opening the door. He only opened the door wide enough to peer out, effectively hiding his companion behind the wood, yet openly displaying his appearance to the angry man standing on the other side. Conversely to his quiet and innocent appearance, the man James met was tall and beefy; he had a red face and balding hair, and his knuckles looked like they could crush a skull. Normally, such a man looked like he could terrorize anyone; lucky for James, he wasn’t just “any” person.

“Uhm... I’m so sorry, but can I help you sir?” James asked, in as polite a voice as he could manage. Polite, being the only emotion he could really display at that moment; upon looking at this muscular brute standing on his step, James couldn’t help but feel his jaw clench in anger as he stood protectively in front of the blond; James didn’t even know his name, but like hell was he going to let someone lay a finger on him.

Clearly, the angry client hadn’t expected to find a Deacon inside this house, and his expression fell from angry, to stunned, to embarrassed in seconds flat. Instantly, his posture relaxed and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “Oh, Jeez, I’m sorry Father I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said, plastering on a sickly sweet smile where he stood.

James just flashed a dead look back at him; he knew this type. He _hated_ this type. Sunday Service Puppets, he liked to call them. Displayed the highest levels of respect in front of clergymen, and then shed that sheepskin the minute they left the church for Monday morning to come. Liars… he almost preferred people didn’t even show up to Service at all, instead of pretending to be holier than they really lived by.

“It’s fine,” he said almost too cheerfully. “I was just sitting down for dinner. What can I help you with?”

Angry Client just shook his head, looking up and down the block for a moment, as if he were looking for his prey even as he stood obediently in front of James. “Oh nothin’… Uhm... you seen a guy come down this way? Blond, wearin’ a bright red running jacket?”

James paused, as if he were pondering his thoughts. “Hmm… now that you mention it, I think I might have.” he said.

Almost instantly, the atmosphere in the hallway spiked with tension and he heard a gasp to his right, just on the other side of the door. But before his companion could speak up, James’ right hand shot out, pressing to his mouth to silence him. He could feel the sex worker’s frantic breath against his skin, and he loosened his grip, running his thumb along his jawline to tell him ‘it’s alright’. “I do believe I saw him run down that way.” James added, pointing with his left hand down the opposite direction. He felt his blond companion relax instantly, and he fought the urge to smile. “But, I do suggest if you have any issues with him, to turn to the police instead? Vigilante justice isn’t always a good idea, and you’re liable to cause more damage than good.”

Angry Client just nodded, looking properly chastised as he turned away. “Uhm… thanks, Father. Sorry to bother you. Have a good night.”

James smiled, nodding to him as he watched the man descend his staircase. But before he got too far, James spoke up, raising his voice. “Confessions are open this Sunday! Just in case you, you know, need them for any illicit activities.” He winked at the shocked look he got from the man, and waved his gloved hand at him. “Have a good night!”

Never had James seen someone run so fast in his life.

Chuckling to himself, James leaned back to shut the door; however, it was only when he felt a wetness on his palm that he realized he hadn’t removed his hand from the worker’s mouth.

And he’d just licked him.

James blinked, looking up at the blond man with surprise in his eyes. “Did you just lick me?”

The sex worker laughed, stepping away from James and pressing his palm to the door to lean casually against it. “You didn’t move your hand. Thought it might be a good way to get your attention.”

“Uh huh…” James said, surreptitiously wiping his hand on his thigh. “So… what was that all about?”

The man sighed, his cheerful demeanor slumping almost instantly as he turned away. “It’s really none of your business, Father. Pretty sure I’d get the riot act and a stern preaching from you if I told you anyway. So let’s just say I pissed that guy off and got my face knocked for it.”

James watched him for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. “I see that. Would you like me to take care of that for you?” he asked, gesturing to his face. With the tension now completely gone, James had a chance to really give this man a good once-over, and his earlier assessment of his injuries was replaced with concern. He was definitely going to be sporting a black eye now, and his lip looked like it was in serious need of some ice.

But what James also noticed was something entirely foreign to him; he didn’t really know why, but just looking at this man… James was stunned to find that he realized his interest in the man’s appearance wasn’t just for his aesthetic. James actually thought the man was very attractive; so attractive, in fact, that James couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach that James didn’t understand and he stared at the sex worker, his jaw slack for a moment. It took him a moment to realize he was openly gawking at him, and he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze. He hoped he wasn’t blushing at all, but from how warm his cheeks felt at that moment, James was pretty sure he was. “So uh… What’s your name anyway?”

The man gave James a careful look before his eyes narrowed. Almost instantly, his earlier calm melted away to discomfort, and he shied away from James where he stood. “Okay, Preach, look here. I don’t want any charity alright? I can get by on my own. I don’t need your help,” he said, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

With the tension of his shoulders, James saw his jacket ripping just a little more, and he sighed. “I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself, but do you really want to go back out there right now? That man looked like he was out for blood, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea of you going out alone right now,” James replied, though he kept his distance anyway, adhering to this man’s wishes as best as he could. “But… if you really don’t want any help, and you really want to leave, I can’t make you stay.”

“Gee, that’s real charitable of you, Father,” The man replied, his voice layered with sarcasm.

James just kept right on smiling. “But think of this… do you really think you want to go find another client tonight, with your face beaten in? Something tells me you’ll either make no more money tonight, or get someone else that’s going to try and take advantage of you in this state. Neither option, I’m sure, you want for yourself.”

The sex worker blanched, staring at James for a moment, before he scoffed. He looked away from him, leaning his shoulder against the door for a moment before looking up at him. “Damn. Thought I was bein’ coy and everything.”

“I might not have been born and raised in Brooklyn, but I’ve lived here long enough to know one when I see one,” James grinned. “Now, are you going to try and stop lying right now? Half-truths, and avoidance are just as bad as lying you know.”

The man laughed, shaking his head incredulously at James. “Wow, so I _am_ gonna get the “body is my temple” rant from you. Thought so.” he stood up, and held his arms out to the side. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m a sex worker. And that was a client I pissed off, because he tried to pull some shit on me I didn’t agree to. Believe me, if his buddy hadn’t stepped in, I would have had him on the ropes.”

“Clearly,” James said, giving his face a pointed look. “Your eye is swelling shut.”

“Eh,” he replied, waving his hand. “I've’ had worse. Call it an occupational hazard. What matters though, is I got my pay,” he said, patting his pocket.

James looked down and saw the top of what looked to be a roll of 100’s, and he gave it a quick, disinterested glance before looking up at him. “So you took it anyway, even despite you not… doing anything.”

“Hey, I figured it was compensation enough for the shiner. ‘Sides, he reeked like pot and Greek food. Yuck. Name’s Steve, by the way.” Steve held his left hand out to James, offering him a smile.

James grimaced, looking down at his hand. Left hand. Oh boy, he _really_ didn’t want to shake with his left hand; he hated the looks he got from people when they realized the “poor suffering priest” was an amputee. He hated the judging, pitied looks just as much as the next guy. He was still human, dammit. He didn’t enjoy the whispers he got when people tried to surmise how a priest lost his arm. They always made him very uncomfortable.

But before James could try and rectify the situation and greet him properly with his _right_ hand, Steve’s expression clouded with distrust. Steve snatched his fingers away and stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his jacket, turning away from him with a scorned gesture. “I’m sorry, I forgot. You’re not supposed to touch us, right? Like, we’re diseased, damned sinners huh? My bad, I’ll try not to get my essence all over the place,” he added with a hurt laugh.

James flinched, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “Excuse me? Where on Earth did you get that idea from?”

Steve just huffed, leaning back against the door as he gazed at him. “Sorry sir, but I’ve run into a few of your kind in my life and they all have the same thing to say. ‘You’re sinning against God and against the church. Turn to God, or you’ll never find Paradise.’” Steve pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose and he sighed. “It gets to be a little hurtful after awhile, you know? And annoying. So... thanks for the sanctuary, but I think I’ve done enough damage here, sullying your holy house. I’ll be going then.” With that, Steve turned, and placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to let himself out, and looking lower than dirt.

James stared at him, his eyes wide in shock. What in the name of God… where had he gotten all of these ideas from? Concerned and a little hurt himself that he’d been categorized as someone so judgemental, James placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, turning Steve’s attention on himself for a moment before he spoke up. “I’m so sorry but I’m going to have to stop you right there. You’re taking this way out of context. I had absolutely no intention on making you feel that way, at all.”

James lowered his hand and straightened his shoulders out. “All I was going to offer to you was some assistance with your injuries, some food, and a place to sleep tonight, considering it’s too dangerous for you to go back out there now. I had absolutely no intention on trying to insult you at all, and I am very sorry that it seemed that way. But, take a moment and really think about what you said. I made no indication that I was judging you for what you do, and I don’t intend on ever making you feel that way. I wasn’t shying away from you because I think you’re disgusting. I can’t greet someone with my left hand. That’s all.”

Silence fell over the two of them. James watched in fascination as the expression on Steve’s face fell from shocked to shamed, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Yeah... I guess you’re right.” Steve said, looking up at James. “Sorry that was… that was really wrong of me. I don’t exactly get good reactions out of anyone when they find out what I do. So… I’m really sorry.” he said, giving him a genuinely apologetic look.

James relaxed. He realized, looking at this man, that he wasn’t crass at all, and the outburst had been simply a reaction to too many instances of judgement on his own behalf. Knowing that, James really couldn’t fault him for his reaction. “Don’t be. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I was looking down on you. I didn’t intend that at all. My name is James by the way.”

Steve nodded, smiling up at him before extending his right hand to him this time. James took it, giving his hand a firm shake and let go. “So James… you said something about my gorgeous face?” Steve asked, gesturing to his jaw with a flourish.

James laughed; his eyes ghosted over Steve’s expression for a moment, really taking in his defined features before he focused on his eyes again. _‘He really has beautiful eyes…’_

“Yeah, you look like you’ve gone a few too many rounds in the boxing ring. Let me get my first aid kit.” James gestured to the kitchen. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, James left Steve’s side and slipped down to the bathroom, where he fetched his first aid kit from the kitchen cabinet. With his things in tow, James turned and left, wandering into the kitchen where he saw Steve sitting at the table, eyeing up the stew in the crockpot with a not-so-careful eye. “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, looking a little sheepish. “Forgot to eat before I went out tonight, that’s all.”

“Running late, I see.” James chuckled, pulling his chair around so that he could sit right in front of Steve. “Well, when I get you patched up, I’ll get you a bowl. Do you take bread and butter?”

Steve stared at him, watching as James opened the first aid kit and begin plucking out his tools with a careful hand. After a moment, as James was soaking a cotton ball with alcohol, Steve spoke up. “I’m sorry, I’m really not used to this. No one _ever_ just brushes off what I do, and you’re acting like it’s totally normal. What gives?”

James smiled holding up the cotton ball. He ran it along Steve’s temple, swiping away the flash of red from his skin and cleaning the tiny cut there as gently as he could manage. “I have absolutely no right to judge anyone for what they do. I’m just here to be a guiding force, should they seek it out from the Church, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but you’re a priest! I’m a ‘hooker,’ and I _hate_ using that word.” Steve flinched and hissed at the sting of the alcohol on his skin.“So why are you okay with it?”

James paused, looking up at him. His eyes darted down to his left hand, which he left carefully on the table after he’d awkwardly handled the small bottle of alcohol. “I have a belief that everyone does what they do for a reason. That reason might be their own and they shouldn’t feel obligated to share with anyone why that is. So, therefore, I’m not judging you for being a sex worker. I just hope that you don’t run into anymore jerks like you did this evening, that’s all.” He carefully swiped over the cut, watching it weep for a moment even after he’d cleaned it; the cut wasn’t big, but it was slightly deeper than what he’d thought originally. Steve would need a butterfly bandage. “And I’m not a priest, just so you know.”

Steve blinked and laughed. “So what, you just run around in their clothes?” he asked, leaning his elbow against the table.

“No,” James answered, moving on to clean a second, tinier cut with his little swab. “I’m a Deacon. It’s one step below a priest in the religious hierarchy, but I am currently working my way towards being ordained as one. I’m hoping that when I finally take that last step, I can be a priest that people aren’t afraid to turn to for help, no matter their problems,” He looked up at Steve and smiled. “That’s why I don’t judge anyone for what they do. You can’t help someone if you’re too busy crucifying them.”

Steve watched him, his jaw slack as he listened. “Wow… why aren’t there more people like you out there?”

James grinned and put the cotton ball down. He pulled out a butterfly bandage and began to carefully wrestle it out of its wrapper. What he wouldn’t give for a _slightly_ more opposable thumb right now... “I don’t know, but I hope to fix that soon.”

The two of men fell silent. James saw Steve’s eyes dart down to his left hand, and he paused. Holding his breath, James waited to see if Steve would ask about it. He hadn’t taken the glove off yet, but it was painfully obvious, after how he handled the tiny bandage, that his left arm wasn’t quite up to snuff with his right. Besides, his stupid arm was the reason they had gotten into that argument earlier. It was bound to be questioned at some point...

Sure enough, Steve cleared his throat. “So… Bum arm, huh?” He asked, looking slightly uncomfortable as if asking would offend the Deacon.

James paused. He looked up at Steve, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, before he nodded. “Yeah…” he murmured. He turned his attention back to the first aid kit and dug out a small, self-cooling compress for his eye. “Car accident, when I was 21.” He glanced up at him and winked. “That’s _my_ reason for what I do.”

“Damn… I’m sorry,” Steve muttered, staring down at his hands. They were folded on the table, and he wrung his fingers together in an uncertain gesture. “Really does make sense, though; why you can’t shake with your left hand. And now I feel like a total dick for what I said earlier.”

“Like I said, Steve,” James replied, putting his supplies back into the kit. “I forgive you. I understand why you said what you did, and I don’t blame you at all.”  He got to his feet and crossed the room to where the crockpot was sitting, and grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard with a flash of a grin over to his companion. “Now, about that bread…”

* * *

 

Steve sat quietly on the sofa, his elbow tucked into the arm as he watched the television screen with a rapt interest. Next to him, James was seated at his side, leaned back into the cushions as they watched the latest episode of “Law and Order” together. They hadn’t really spoken much since the episode began. Steve didn’t blame him. He had no idea that someone liked this show as much as he did!

When the final commercial break cut in just before the end of the episode, Steve looked over at him, his eyes ghosting over his features as he really looked at the Deacon. James had a fine, chiseled jawline that Steve thought he could really enjoy nibbling on, and steely blue eyes that shone in the light of the television. He had a defined nose, smooth skin, and long hair that was pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck. Handsome… no, _gorgeous_ was a better word to describe James, and Steve found himself staring openly at his appearance with a hungry intent.

 _‘That’s just not fair…’_ he thought to himself with a chuckle. _‘He’s too hot to be a priest. Why’s he gotta be so fuckin’ hot…’_

His quiet laugh didn’t go unnoticed. Just as Steve was letting his eyes roam down over James’ torso, James looked over at Steve, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. “What is it?” James asked, smiling at him carefully.

Steve shrugged, leaning back into the sofa with a fake yawn. “Nothin’... just don’t usually get such an easy evening. Got paid, had some really fuckin’ good food, and now I’m catching up on one of my favorite shows. Just enjoying myself, really.”

“Hmm.” James replied, turning his attention back to the television. Steve noted with a wry smile, that James was actually blushing. Maybe he’d caught Steve checking him out. He really hoped that was the case. “Well I’m glad you’re enjoying your evening so thoroughly.”

“Oh I am.” Steve replied. He turned his attention back to the tv, and he grinned. “Doesn’t hurt that I’m sitting here with someone real attractive too…”

Of course, that was when James had decided to take a drink. He choked audibly on the water, putting the glass down on the side table and thumping his chest with his fist, before looking over at Steve with wide eyes. “I’m sorry?” he asked; squeaked would have been a better word, but Steve was trying to play it cool. it wasn't his fault that James was being far too cute.

“Oh c’mon,” Steve grinned. He turned, propping his left leg up on the cushion as he pressed his arm into the back of the sofa. “It’s part of my job to notice when there’s a hot guy near by. And lemme tell you, you got the hot priest thing going on right now. Don’t you get people checking you out all the time?”

James spluttered, looking highly flustered as he looked at Steve. “No, honestly, I don’t get people telling me that. It’s not exactly part of _my_ job description to be thought of as… as, ‘hot’.”

Steve tisked, shaking his head as he got up from the sofa. The show had resumed finally, but he was having far too much fun teasing the Deacon. He might have been pressing his luck by doing so, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something about seeing James looking so thoroughly embarrassed as Steve goaded him on with his words. Steve turned away from him, walking around the room as he really took in his surroundings. Man, this guy really took the whole “religion” thing seriously. There were practically no decorations in this place at all, and he’d spied at least two crucifixes in the house already. “That’s a shame. ‘Cause you’re really a catch you know that?” Steve let his hand slide along the top of a table, and he smiled down at him. “Haven’t you ever been told you were handsome before?”

James looked up at him, his eyes wide before he cleared his throat again. Steve watched as James got up from the sofa and went to a simple, wooden cabinet across the room. But when he opened the door, Steve’s eyes went wide. “Whoa. You got a liquor cabinet?” he asked, staring as James pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and a glass.

James didn’t answer him for a moment. Instead he busied himself by pouring some of the amber liquid into the glass and taking a swig of it. Steve’s grin widened into a full-blown smile. Shit, James was stalling. James drank when he was nervous. Hot, kind, and a nervous drinker. Not so holy now, huh… “Yes, Steve, I have a liquor cabinet,” he said, looking up at him from across the room. “And no, I’ve never had anyone tell me I was handsome before.”

“What?!” Steve exclaimed, his eyes widening. What a fucking travesty! “Are you serious? That’s bullshit, why not?!”

James shook his head, staring down at the glass in his hand. “Never had the occasion, honestly,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

Steve stared at him, his mind running a mile a minute. The longer he stared at him, the more Steve realized he absolutely had to break this guy down. Poor fucker never even had someone tell him he was attractive before. His first time had to be from a sex worker.

“Well that’s just a damn shame,” Steve said. He leaned over the back of the couch, resting his elbows on the back as he beamed at James from across the room. “So lemme guess.. You’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before in your life, is that it?”

James sighed, looking up at him. He stared at Steve for a moment before he reached into the cabinet and removed a second glass. Pouring his guest a drink, James walked over and handed it to Steve, who took it graciously. “No, I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. And now that I’m a Deacon, that will never happen.”

“So, that means you’ve never had sex before,” Steve needled, taking a swig and relishing the burn in the back of his throat.

James laughed, a nervous sound, and shook his head. “No, I’ve never had sex before.”

“Holy shit... “ Steve breathed. Now he just felt bad for the poor guy. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re missing out on, you know that?”

“I’m pretty sure I have an idea of what I’m missing out on, but it’s one of the many sacrifices I’ve chosen to take for my vocation.”

Steve rolled his eyes, taking a swig of whiskey and winking at him. “And yet, you drink booze and you smoke. Of the three things you had to give up, you chose sex, the one that makes you feel the most good. Doesn’t make sense to me.”

James looked up at him, his eyes wide. “How did you know I smoke?”

Steve laughed, leaning back. “I don’t smoke, but I have plenty of clients that do. Even after several hours, the smell sticks to your clothes. Comes up from your gullet when you talk. I can smell it on you.” Steve waved his hand at him. “I’m not judging. I’m pretty sure it’s not a sin to smoke or drink. I’ve seen plenty of priests outside the church lighting up. I’m just… marveling that you chose the best one of all to give up. I mean, please tell me you at least jerk one out once in awhile.”

“I’m sorry, _what_ now?”

Steve giggled. “Jerk one out? Play the skin flute? Charm the snake?” Steve watched him, noting the absolutely confused look crossing James’ face. Oh this was just too much fun. “Translation: _Do you masturbate?”_

Steve watched the shocked look crossed James’ face; however, he didn’t expect the reaction he got out of him: James outright laughed.

“No, Steve!” James snickered, taking another drink before grabbing the whiskey and filling his glass again. “No I don't masturbate. It’s part of the vow of Chastity I’ve taken. I’m sorry, but sex is just not part of my job description in anyway at all.” He grinned at him. “You do realize you’re being very inappropriate to me right now, yes?”

“And yet, you haven’t thrown me out of your house, still.” Steve countered, clicking the glass against his teeth with a lecherous smile. “I’d say you’re enjoying this, actually. Enjoying someone actually flirting with you.”

“Is that what you call this?”

Steve flashed him a knowing look. “You poor, sheltered soul. Yes. This is flirting. It’s what I do when I see a pretty man.”

James watched him and glanced down at his drink. He took a sip and turned to close the cabinet. “If I say, yes, I actually am rather enjoying this, what would you do?”

Steve beamed, feeling a sliver of triumph in his chest. Finally, he was getting through to him. “I’d say, you’re doing a fabulous job of accepting your first openly gay flirting session, Father. What do you say…” Steve placed his glass down, pressing his hands to the back of the sofa. He batted his eyes at him and grinned, tilting his head in a vaguely come hither gesture. “Wanna try it out? I’ll give you a freebie. One time round, then you can go back to being the Virgin Mary. Eh? I’ll make it good for you.”

James sighed, looking up at him, though his eyes betrayed him. Steve nearly jumped for joy. James was actually fucking thinking about doing it! “I can’t do that, Steve. It goes against everything I’ve worked for all these years.”

“But you’re considering it.” Steve prodded, licking his lower lip. He caught James’ eyes darting down to his mouth, and he flashed him a cheeky smile. “C’mon Father… once around. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“I told you,” James said, turning to face him. “I’m not a priest. Please stop disrespecting the clergy by calling me that.”

Steve paused, tapping his finger on his jaw for a moment. “Don’t disrespect the clergy by calling you a priest, yet you haven’t stopped me from flirting with you yet. A _man_ coming onto a Deacon, and you're more concerned about me calling you the wrong thing. Something’s not adding up here, James.” He looked over at him and stood up straight. “You’re actually okay with the idea. I can see it in your eyes. You actually wanna try out the forbidden fruit, get a little taste of this,” he said, gesturing down at himself. Steve knew he looked good for 34 years old. He had to, at his age, if he wanted to get any work. And he was just tickled pink that James was no longer hiding the open looks he was giving his physique. ”Please Father?” he asked, poking his lower lip out at him. “Please let me kneel? Show you what a good little boy I can be?”

James laughed again, though this time it seemed very final. He shook his head at him, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to get some sleep, Steve. I need to be up early tomorrow morning. You can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

Steve sighed, giving up for the time being. He had a feeling this one was going to be tough to win over, but he was determined to do so. “So close,” he sighed, waving his hand at him. He watched James turn for the hallway closet and grab a quilt from inside. When James walked over and placed the quilt on the arm of the sofa, Steve reached out, letting his fingers dance up the Deacon’s arm for a moment. “Alright then…” he murmured, as his fingers ghosted over the side of James' neck; James openly shivered at the touch. Steve knew, then and there, that he could definitely break this tough shell, sooner rather than later. “If you say so, Father. Thank you for letting me sleep on your sofa.”

James shuddered, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. He choked on his words, stumbling to find the right response. Finally, he gave up and simply turned away from him, escaping to his own bedroom, where he disappeared behind the door with a gentle click.

Steve watched him go, laughing to himself as he rounded to the front of the sofa again. Kicking off his boots, Steve shrugged out of his tank top and slumped back down onto the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling with a happy grin on his face, feeling far more successful than he’d ever felt in his life. Sure, he’d only gotten one client that night, and he actually hadn’t even seen any action at all, but he’d done something no other worker he’d known had ever done. He’d tempted a clergyman and _won_. Steve might not have actually gotten him in the sack, but he knew James was definitely thinking about succumbing to him now.

And now more than ever, Steve wanted nothing more than to claim that fine, virgin man for himself and make him scream like a little whore. _‘Oh I’m gonna get him,’_ Steve thought to himself, grinning stupidly as he stared at the door his Deacon had disappeared through. _‘I’m gonna get him. And when I do… I’m gonna fuck him so hard he can’t walk for a fucking week....’_

 


	2. Genesis 3:6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James comes to terms with his feelings after helping protect Steve from the thugs that wanted to harm him. What he hadn't counted on was realizing how quickly Steve's presence had made an impact on his life. After two weeks, though, those feelings should have abated, right? Not if Steve has anything to say about it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME WHILE I WORKED ON THIS STORY! I had a MASSIVE writer's block and ran into an issue where the chapter was just not wanting to update itself, and I was struggling to get the words to flow right. But after a swift kick in the ass from my friends and beta, I managed to work through the block. SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!!! *showers you all with love and priest!Bucky*

Feet pounded the cold asphalt in a blunt staccato, the sound echoing into the cold air as the two runners made yet another lap around the park that morning. Normally, a run like this would warrant some light banter, maybe enjoying the frosty scenery around the two runners as they exercised. This was not that morning. Instead, James’ eyes were locked dead ahead, pushing himself to his limit as he tried to outrun his nagging thoughts for the umptenth lap that morning. He really wasn’t doing such a good job.

Logically, James knew that he was crucifying himself over nothing of consequence. But he really couldn’t shake his thoughts as they plagued him incessantly until he felt like he was going crazy. He’d done a good thing. He’d helped someone who needed it the most. He’d done his job as a religious man. That’s all there was to it.

But no… that wasn’t right either. Yes, he’d helped someone out of a sticky situation, but James knew his conscious was not clean in the slightest. He still couldn’t shake how deeply Steve’s blue eyes poured into his very soul, rattling him to the core so viciously. He couldn’t let go of how his words had pierced deeply into his carefully constructed facade and made him crave the feeling of being thought of as _beautiful_ by another person. James had never gotten the experience of being told by someone that they thought he was handsome or attractive, and from Steve of all people…

James was ashamed of himself. Having slipped into his bedroom the night before without so much as a parting gesture, he’d woken up that morning, fully intent on apologizing to Steve for being so rude to him. But when he’d returned to the living room where he’d left him, James only found an empty couch, the quilt folded up on the table and no sign of Steve anywhere. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to him and wish him well.

He couldn’t get the image of chiseled features and bright eyes out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. James had woken up from a fitful night’s sleep, the smug expression Steve had laid on him the night before still burned into the backs of his eyelids. He could remember almost every single freckle on his face, the faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and he was helpless to keep himself from hoping to see that man again, even just in passing.

James was saddened by the fact that he hadn’t even gotten a chance to commit his image to memory for a lifetime of loneliness ahead of him. He didn’t even know Steve’s last name, but here he was pining to see him one more time. James had no idea what being in love felt like but if he had to wager a guess, he was fairly certain it felt a lot like this.

“Whoa, man slow down!” Sam’s voice caught his attention from somewhere behind him, and startled him from his thoughts. He looked back and found Sam bent over, his palms pressed to his knees as he struggled to catch his breath from the brutal pace James had set for their run and shooting him dangerous looks as he heaved for breath. “You tryin’ to kill me? I get you’re trying to break your pace, Bucky, but damn. Cut a guy some slack!”

James sheepishly turned back to his friend; he approached Sam with his shoulders hunched forward in embarrassment and placed his hand on his back to steady his exhausted figure as he ranted at him. “Sorry,” James offered, sounding genuinely apologetic. He helped Sam straighten up and he dropped his hand to his side, stuffing it into the pocket of his sweatshirt as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “Need to stop? I guess I should take a break too.”

Sam shot him a withering look; he gestured to a nearby bench with a tired jerk of his head and took a few deep breaths of icy air. “You know, for someone that smokes like a half a pack a day, you got a hell of a set of lungs on you. What’s your secret? Glory of God? Sell your soul secretly to the devil?”

“That’s not funny,” James snapped back, unable to fight his irritation at his friend’s poor taste in humor.

Sam laughed, clapping his hand on his knee for a moment as he finally got his breathing under control. “Okay, sorry. Bad joke, but seriously, what’s up with the pace today?”

James paused, looking down at the ground as he felt his irritation melting away right back to guilt. He shrugged a shoulder and walked with Sam to their chosen bench, the two of them taking a seat for the time being. It was pretty clear that their run was pretty much done for the morning, and it had done jack all in relieving him from his thoughts like he’d hoped. So much for escaping his problems after all. “Sorry, just… got some stuff on my mind right now. Didn’t mean to try and kill you.”

Sam waved off his apology, taking the much-needed sit down and giving himself a second to collect himself. “I get it. Something on your mind. Wanna talk about it?”

“You sure you’re not gonna have to charge me for this?” James asked, quirking a smile at him as he watched his friend’s posture carefully. Figured, the therapist was willing to mediate James’ worries without hesitation. He really had a good friend in Sam.

“Nah, no need. It’s on the house today,” Sam replied, leaning his elbow against the bench arm. He leveled his gaze on James, and waited for his answer. “So? What’s on your mind, Bucky?”

James hesitated; he fussed with the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his prosthesis arm and chewed his lower lip in worry as he mulled over his words carefully. As he thought to himself, the lingering memory of bright blue eyes and a tempting smile floated back into his mind for a moment, and his eyes drifted shut. He really liked those eyes-- despite the absolutely dirty intentions behind them, Steve’s eyes were comforting and warm and he found himself longing for just a brief moment of that attention again.

James knew the pull of addiction; knew how overwhelming it could get. His skin crawled every moment he wanted a cigarette and didn’t give his cravings what they needed. Much like those tobacco cravings, James found his skin prickling with want as he thought of Steve, though he hadn’t the slightest clue exactly _how_ he wanted him.

Well that wasn’t entirely true; James was well aware of how biology worked. He wasn’t too naive to think he didn’t know how carnal his desires were for Steve. He also wasn’t stupid enough to think that the way Steve looked at him, the way his eyes burned for him was anything short of purely lustful. His stance had given everything away. Quite literally, Steve had been the hunter on the prowl the night before, and James had been his intended prey. Had James given in to Steve’s temptation in the slightest, he was certain that he would have found himself literally belly up, pinned down to the floor, the bed… anywhere they found opportunity to collapse, and he knew he would have been ravaged fiercely by his guest, screaming himself hoarse as Steve poured every ounce of his skill into making James see the stars all night.

Interestingly enough, James realized he wasn’t horrified by the thought of Steve pinning him to the floor and having his way with him. Rather, James was horrified to realize that he was _disappointed_ that that was not how their night had ended. He was disappointed that he’d lost his nerve and abandoned Steve and hid himself in his bedroom for the remainder of the night, simultaneously wishing he could feel those fingers on his skin, and torturing himself over the fact that he was allowing himself to succumb to these filthy thoughts.

Before he’d joined the seminary, James had been saving his virginity for marriage, as per the expectations of his family and his own wishes. When he joined the seminary, James had taken a vow of Chastity willfully. It hadn’t mattered to him to take his vow at such a young age, because he’d never had sex with anyone to really know what he was missing out on. James had never wanted to sleep with anyone before in his life, but the minute Steve had walked into his life and taunted him with the promise of sex, the floodgates had opened, leaving James burning with years of repressed lust beneath the surface of his skin.

 _‘What are you doing?!’_ he thought to himself in a panic. His fingers flexed into a fist in his lap, and he closed his eyes, desperate to push Steve from his mind and stop his lewd thoughts from taking over his entire conscience. _‘You shouldn’t be thinking of him like this. It’s like he said- it’s all just part of his job. You can’t do this, James… you can’t think of him like this. Stop it before you damn yourself for good!’_

Still, even as he begged his subconscious to let go of that man and forget about his hungry intent, he couldn’t push those piercing eyes from his mind. Nor could he forget about the way Steve cut a dashing figure in his living room, even just in a pair of jeans and a tank top that barely concealed his chest. And the more he begged himself to let go of Steve and return to his life- his normal, clean and pious life- the more James found himself thinking of Steve, and wondering what it _really_ would have been like to feel those hands on his shoulders, or the touch of Steve’s lips on his. James craved the feeling of closure when it came to Steve, but he craved the experience of kissing him more than anything else in his whole life.

He was really going to hell, for sure.

James didn’t realize he’d been lost in his own thoughts until he heard Sam’s voice clearing to his right. Looking up at him, James flushed red. “I’m here, just… thinking I guess,” he chuckled meekly.

But Sam didn’t answer him. In fact, Sam wasn’t even looking at him. At least not his eyes.

It took James a brief moment to realize what Sam was looking at. His lap. Sam was staring at his lap. Why on Earth was Sam staring at his lap? “What… what are you…” James asked, glancing down.

Oh. _Oh. Oh no..!_

“Oh my God!” James exclaimed, jumping up to his feet. He didn’t even give himself time to think about how he’d taken the Lord’s name in vain, because he was too preoccupied with the fact that he was sporting a very prominent erection. In front of Sam. While thinking of Steve.

Taking the Lord’s name in vain was _clearly_ the least of his worries at that moment.

“What the-” Sam said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Uhm… having some thoughts I should be concerned about there, Bucky?”

“N-no! No, I mean... really, no.” James stuttered, holding his hand out to him in a placating gesture. He backed away from Sam for a moment, before tugging his sweatshirt down a bit to try and hide his groin from his friend. “You know what, I think I’m gonna turn in, Sam. Thanks for the run and uhm… yeah, thanks!”

“Bucky, wait!” Sam called after him, but it was too late. Already, James found himself jogging down the path, making a beeline for the park gates and straight home as fast as he could. He pointedly ignored his cell phone in his pocket as he crossed the street and bolted into his brownstone as quickly as he could manage. Slamming the door shut, James leaned back against the cool wood, letting his head thump back against the door as he stared at the ceiling above him.

“I’m going to hell. I’m actually going to hell,” James gasped, shaking his head vehemently as he tried his damnedest to will his erection down. Squeezing his eyes shut, James forced himself to think of anything and everything he possibly could to take his mind off of his still-simmering lust, even going as far as mentally reciting proverbs in his mind to calm down his excitement.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, James opened his eyes and glanced down at his lap. To his utter relief, his erection had flagged finally, and the obvious tent that had shown up in his sweatpants earlier had finally gone down. Finally, the burn beneath his skin had abated somewhat, and for the first time all morning, James found his mind free of the thoughts of Steve. For the time being at least.

“That… that is the last time I wear sweatpants,” he mumbled to himself, reaching up and ripping his headband from his head and tossing the fleecy garment onto the side table with a careless gesture. He suddenly felt exhausted and he slumped his way into the room to collapse onto the sofa with a tired huff of breath.

For a long time, James didn’t move. He simply stared at the blank television screen across from himself unblinking. The only grounding factor he knew of was the weight of his prosthesis resting on his lap, carefully covering his groin where it lay. He was fairly certain he hadn’t done that on purpose. Then again, he wasn’t certain of anything anymore.

As he slouched into the sofa, James’ eyes tracked from across the room to the quilt laying on the table in front of him. He didn’t know why, but he found himself absolutely fascinated by the sight of the quilt, and he sat up long enough to pluck it from the table with a tentative grip. Holding the quilt up, James stared at it for a long moment, his mind wandering back to the night before. He could remember in crystal clarity, the events of the previous evening; how close Steve had sat next to him on the sofa before he’d begun flirting with him.

He could even remember how sweet his cologne smelled, ebbing off of warm skin and tickling his senses. James shivered at the memory, the shudder rolling up his spine until his skin prickled with gooseflesh at that very thought, and he vaguely wondered if Steve’s cologne was still tainting the fabric of the quilt he’d used the night before.

Well… he’d already succumbed to his sinful thoughts once that day. There wasn’t much more he could do now to break every rule in his vocation.

Tentatively, James lifted a section of the quilt up, and leaned in. He took a gentle breath, inhaling whatever essence Steve had left behind on the cloth and closing his eyes. Sure enough, Steve’s scent was still clinging to the quilt’s fabric, and a second shudder wracked James’ figure as he relished in the soothing, sweet smell he found there.

He gave in at that moment. Dropping the quilt to his lap, James stared up at the ceiling, a frown etched into his features as he obsessed over the thought of Steve. Steve, a man he’d known for less than a day, and yet couldn’t take his mind off of to save himself.

James groaned in defeat, clapping his hand over his eyes in shame. “I’m really… _really_ going to hell…”

* * *

 

Steve didn’t honestly appreciate the sound of his alarm clock. As much as it sucked hearing that thing screeching in his ear at 6 in the morning, Steve found himself equally annoyed by it’s presence at 6 at night. But as much as he wanted to roll back over and go to sleep again, he knew he really couldn’t afford to ignore it’s presence for the time being. His clients always demanded his absolute punctuality when it came to their sessions; if he were late even once, he’d lose his work without even a fleeting glance, and with his growing financial struggle, Steve really couldn’t afford to lose another client. Such was the life of someone of his profession, it seemed.

Groaning in protest, Steve slapped the alarm button on his clock, silencing the tinny whine at his left before he buried his face in the pillow with annoyance. He had to get up. He had a client he needed to tend to. Besides, he was still technically on vacation at his other job. He couldn’t afford to give up the extra pay while he had it at his disposal.

Grumbling sleepily, Steve rolled out of bed and slumped to the bathroom, where he took a quick shower, and roused himself from his sleepy state. When he felt relatively awake again, he dressed in his finest black jeans and a red shirt, and slumped his way to the kitchen of his home to make himself a pot of coffee.

Nodding into his cup, Steve blearily read through his texts and emails while he munched on a piece of toast, taking stock of any upcoming clients he’d have to cater to before he returned to his other job on Monday. But just as he was reading his emails, a text message flashed up on his screen, catching his attention. Steve blinked in confusion before his sleepy mind recognized the number. It was his client for that night. What the hell could he possibly need?

**XXX [6:54pm] Gotta bail tonight. Wife’s come home early from her business trip. Call me for a reschedule.**

Steve stared at his phone for a moment, rolling his eyes in irritation. Really? So much for fucking punctuality. “Fuck you,” he grumbled, dropping his phone onto the table and ignoring the man’s request to call him back. That was it; this wasn’t the first time this particular client had decided to skip out on Steve’s time. As much as Steve’s work was beginning to suffer, he had no time to deal with customers that couldn’t be bothered to stick with his schedule; he didn’t need some asshole taking up a whole block of his time just to regularly cancel on him at the drop of a hat.

Still, he didn’t like the idea of losing another client like this; in all honesty, Steve could only imagine how this was going to affect him financially in the long run. Scheduling off a block of time for this asshole every chance he got took up quite a chunk of Steve’s night, ever single time. On the one hand, when this guy actually showed up for their sessions, he paid quite a bit to keep Steve to himself all night. Generally, Steve walked away quite satisfied with his pay when it worked out with this particular client.

But, on the other hand, Steve found himself more often than not being cancelled on at the last minute. A whole night dumped right down the drain, which forced Steve to have to scramble to find other clients on the street just to make up for the deficit.

Christ, it wasn’t like Steve got paid to fuck willy-nilly, here. He had a network of people that valued his time more than this asshole did, even if that network was beginning to shrink, day by day.

Fuck it. He could try to find another regular to fill his client book with. He was going to lose pay out on this guy either way. Might as well try to find someone that would value his schedule better. “Sorry, Mr. _Smith…_ go find another worker to waste time on,” Steve mumbled, deleting his number from his phone and blocking the man’s contact information. Sure, he’d be upset that Steve had dumped him as a client, but he’d get over it. It wasn’t like Steve had any reason to worry about this guy coming after him; he practically lived in his wife’s back pocket as he was. He was most definitely _not_ a threat to Steve.

Now that his evening was completely free _once again_ , Steve knew it was time to fall back on his usual safety net and hope for a couple scores that way. Tony’s club wasn’t exactly booming on Thursdays, but it was better than just sitting on his thumbs not getting his pay at all.

With that in mind, Steve plodded over to his bathroom, and plucked up a bottle of his best cologne. With a few spritz and a dash of gel in his hair, Steve worked his appearance over with a careful hand, until he had his hair tousled just right and his collar tugged down to expose his throat in a white column of cool flesh. Once he’d gotten his hair just right, Steve gave his face a quick once-over, and he grimaced at the sight of his bruises.

Dammit… Rollins’ goonies really did a number on him. The black eye he was sporting had only slightly abated some since that priest had tended to him the night before, and his lower lip was still slightly swollen. At least the scrape on his temple was almost completely gone now. The last thing he needed was to bleed on some poor, unsuspecting soul that night.

With a sigh, Steve reached into the bathroom cabinet to pluck out a nearly used-up stick of cover-up, and began dabbing it over the bruising beneath his eye. He was going to have to go buy a new stick of makeup when he had the chance. Now that was something he didn’t mind looking forward to, however petty it was. He loved the looks he got from the pharmacy cashiers every time he had to go pick up a new stick of the stuff; not that Steve could read minds, but he always had fun trying to figure out what they were thinking, watching a 6 foot Adonis buying makeup for himself. Their faces always made the whole trip a hell of a lot more fun.

Funnily enough, Steve didn’t dwell on how often he actually had to go and do that, no matter how many times he got a kick out of it.

When he was satisfied with his work, Steve went to his bedroom and picked up a handful of condoms from his dresser drawer and shoved them into his wallet before bending and grabbing his boots from beneath his bed. Once he had the laces tightly secured, Steve got to his feet and crossed the room to grab his coat from the closet, intent on heading out as quickly as possible.

But just as he did, his eyes landed on the brown running jacket he’d accidentally stolen from the priest and he paused. His eyes lingered on the torn shoulder for a moment, before his mind immediately settled on that handsome face and those full lips he’d taken such a liking to.

James… what a nice name. What a nice man.

What a hot fucking, holy ass.

Honestly, Steve still couldn’t get over how charming and kind James had been to him the night before. Sure, Steve knew the Scripture well enough. The Good Samaritan and all that; help a man in need without complaint and all that shit. Give your coat to a man that needs it more than you. Blah blah blah. This guy really lived by the Holy Book, just like countless other priests he’d met in his life. Steve had been right when he mentioned it to the deacon; he’d had his fair share of arguments with clergymen in the past and none of them had taken too kindly to him after they figured out what kind of work he did.

But he hadn't had that same argument with James. James had been completely different; sweet and kind and actually _interested_ in Steve’s flirtations when he offered them. Steve had actually only started teasing the guy to try and get a rise out of him, but when he actually saw that blush and those blue eyes dilating in interest at his words, Steve was helpless to resist pushing the boundaries further. When he’d finally sent the guy to bed with a blush and a not-so-hidden interest in wanting to actually break a few rules, Steve knew he had the guy hook, line and sinker.

But what was most interesting to Steve was how true that statement was the other way around. James might have been an innocent, virginal man with a growing interest of the more carnal side of life, but Steve was addicted to that brown haired, blue eyed angel right from the moment he’d laid eyes on him. Steve knew he was going to get that man into bed even if it killed him. He absolutely had to taste that guy’s virginity for himself, and fuck anyone else that would even be remotely interested in trying. He wanted James all for himself, and that was that.

Okay, Steve was fairly certain that there wasn’t a single soul on the planet that actually wanted to screw James (taboos and all that) but Steve was a jealous, competitive man by nature. He had been ever since he’d been a stick of a thing growing up. He'd always wished he had been as handsome or well-built as the other kids in his high school and constantly picked fights with other teens that thought they could take advantage of people like himself whenever they wanted, or mocked him for being poor growing up. It was partly why he’d gotten involved in sex work to begin with; the minute Steve had hit late puberty and filled out into the tall, muscled figure he was today, Steve had lunged into his career as a sex worker with gusto, earning his pay and making a name for himself as the most sought-after worker on the streets.

He’d been damn proud of his accomplishments as a sex worker and still was to this day, constantly driven by that competitive streak that had gotten him his start to begin with. So when it came to thinking of others possibly wanting to get a taste of the man Steve had staked out for himself in an instant, well… Steve was just not having any of that.

With a chuckle, Steve left the running jacket in his closet and grabbed his leather coat instead. He slipped it on and exited his little home, taking to the streets with a confident skip in his steps to help ward off the chill he felt; at least it would only take him about ten minutes to walk to Tony’s club, which Steve was grateful for. The night had taken another cold turn despite earlier weather reports of a balmier week. Damn, he wished his coat had a thicker lining in it.

After a brisk walk in the cold night air, Steve slipped into the club, hanging his jacket up on one of the peg hooks in the coat room and made his way into the club. Just as he thought, the interior was not terribly packed, but there were quite a few patrons on the dance floor, and the bar had a few potential customers for Steve to peruse for the night. Maybe he’d get lucky that night after all.

As he approached the bar, his eyes landed on the lithe figure working behind the counter that night, and his smile grew tenfold. Natasha. What a good girl, always willing to look the other way when Steve was working. He liked Natasha. Sharp as a tack and tough as nails, she was one of the few people that Steve could turn to when he had a rough client go south on him. Maybe she’d have her eye out for a few potential customers that night for him too.

“Garson! Your finest whiskey, please!” he announced, taking a seat at the bar and resting his elbows on the marble countertop with a smile. When she turned at his voice, he flashed her a bright smile and a wink. “And make it a double on the rocks. Schedule’s opened up tonight, so I’m looking for a good catch while I can.”

“You know, a simple hello would suffice, Steve.” Natasha said, quirking her brow at him. As she spoke, she grabbed a glass and dropped a few ice cubes in before fetching one of her top-shelf whiskeys from behind her. But when she turned back to him and set the glass down, her eyes widened at Steve and gave him a good once over. “Jesus. Your makeup job is fucking terrible. Who punched you this time?”

Steve waved his hand dismissively, and took the glass from her before sliding a twenty across the counter. “Don’t worry about it. Got eyes out on the crowd tonight for me?”

“I didn’t think you were coming in tonight, so no I haven’t been keeping an eye out. I’ll ask Tony if he’s seen anyone,” Natasha answered, her eye still on his face for a moment. “Seriously, it looks like you covered that shit up with crayon. Lemme get my purse.”

“Aww ma,” Steve sighed, watching as she slipped from behind the bar and to the backroom. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and turned back to the rest of the club, watching the dance floor with interest as he tried to scope out who would pay well for his company. He didn’t care if it was a man or woman; as long as his night out didn’t cost him in the end, he was perfectly fine with whoever he picked up. Top shelf whiskey wasn’t exactly cheap this day and age…

Just as he found himself eyeing up a pretty blond girl on the dancefloor and calculating if she’d pay out for the night, Steve heard footsteps behind him and he looked up to see Natasha returning, holding a little stick of makeup in her hand. Behind her, Tony came slouching in from the back room, looking slightly disheveled as he nursed his own vodka with a careful hand.

“Hey Tony!” Steve greeted.

“Hey yourself,” Tony snorted, eyeing up Steve for a moment before rolling his eyes. “No schedule tonight huh? Just don’t get yourself in trouble, I don’t need the fucking cops eyeing up this place like a den of iniquity.”

“It already is one, Tony. Don’t you dare tell me you don’t have _special_ rooms back there for no reason,” Steve retorted.

“Fair enough, You caught me red handed.” Tony sighed, leaning his hip against the counter as he watched him. “God knows I let you prowl this place enough to put a nice black mark on my ledger as it is.”

“You’re damn right you do, and I bring in enough people coming back looking for more as it is so I’m doing you a favor. You’re welcome, by the way.” Steve shot back, winking at him. He reached out to take the makeup from Natasha, only to find her slim fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging him around to the edge of the counter. “What?”

“C’mere. I’m putting this on you, you do makeup like shit,” Natasha said, giving him a careful look. Uncapping the little stick, she reached up and began dabbing make up onto his black eye. Carefully smudging the pale grease over his eye with her fingertip, she camouflaged the mark with an expert hand before leaning back to examine her work carefully. “There. Wanna tell us where you got that black eye from?”

Steve paused, looking down at where his hand was resting on the bartop. He fiddled with his nails for a moment, tapping his index finger on the counter as he mused over whether or not he should actually tell them the truth. God knows, Tony talked enough about this guy for Steve to know he was bad news to begin with. It had been his fault he’d agreed to schedule a session with him; the black eye had really only been his reward for such a stupid mistake. “Eh… No one in particular. Just a bad client.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit and you know it, Steve.” Tony shot back, leveling him with a glare. “You’re always quick to bitch about bad clients to us, so what’s so wrong with this one in particular. Who did you fuck?”

Steve flinched, looking up at Tony with a glare of his own before he relented. It wasn’t like he could keep this a secret for long, anyway. “Alright _fine._ It was Strucker. And I didn’t fuck him, but I sure as hell got my pay out of him anyway.”

Tony stared at him, his eyes wide for a moment before he groaned. “Goddammit, Steve! I told you to steer clear of him. He’s a mobster psychopath! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Hey, we made a deal it was only supposed to be quick!” Steve sighed, throwing his hands up. “Quick in and out and five grand in my pocket. I couldn’t turn down that much at once.” He sat back down at the bar and plucked up his whiskey, taking a hefty sip before continuing. “But when I got there, I found out he had Rollins with him, and the two shitheads had dragged in some scared girl off the street and had her on the bed, waiting for me. Apparently his idea of quick fun was jacking off to watching me screw someone that wasn’t part of our deal. So I bailed on him and let her go.” Steve mused, letting his mind dwell back on that moment vehemently.

Steve might have had himself a reputation for trying just about anything with clients, but there was one thing that Steve didn’t do: he didn’t force anyone to have sex with him. When he’d found that poor girl sitting on the bed, looking scared out of her mind and _clearly_ uneducated in what those shitheads were going to make her do, Steve had made good on his personal vow and broke Strucker’s nose in two places before running with the girl.

Steve looked up from the counter to see Tony and Natasha staring at him furiously. Furious at him? Nah… furious at fuck-head Strucker and Rollins for their idea of “fun”. Clearly, Steve wasn’t the only one that felt strongly about his convictions.

“So what the hell happened?” Natasha asked, her jaw ticking in anger as she spoke.

Steve shrugged. “I ran with her to get her out of there, but somehow Rollins and his cronies caught up with me and got a few good punches in before I laid ‘em out on the concrete. Dumbass Rollins had the roll in his pocket, so when it fell out I took it and ran. Simple as that.”

Tony groaned, rubbing his hand over his face in exasperation and ruffling his dark hair. “You fucknut. Strucker’s gonna be out for blood now. Why the hell aren't you on the Witness Protection program or something?” Tony turned away from him, grabbing his cell phone, and dialing in a number. “I better call someone to come and gloss this shit over. You better stick with the club for a few months until Strucker chills out and gets his five thousand back.”

“Bullshit, I’m not giving him the money back!” Steve shot back, his eyes wide in shock before he stood up. “I already invested that shit in something important!”

“Yeah, well if you don’t give it back, your head’s gonna be on a nice, shiny silver platter, idiot.” Tony growled at him, pressing the phone to his ear and slipping out from behind the bar, leaving Natasha and Steve behind in a flurry of anger.

Steve stared after him, his blood pulsing viciously in his ears. There went his good mood for the night. “Fucking asshole. Strucker broke his own deal, he shouldn’t be expecting that money back at all!” Steve growled, dropping down to the barstool and finishing off his drink in two swallows before handing the glass back to Natasha for a refill.

Natasha sighed, taking the glass and filling it up again before pushing it across the bar towards him. But when Steve offered her more money for the drink, she simply waved him off, looking down at him with concern in her eyes. “You know he means well, Steve. Tony, I mean. He might not act like it, but when you don’t show up for a few days at a time, he actually gets really worried that something happened to you. It’s as close to being a friend as he can manage, so take it where you can.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head as he sipped his drink a little more slowly this time. “I get that too, but Jesus Christ…”

Natasha stopped him, holding a hand up in silence. “Tony knows Strucker. He’s familiar with the shit that guy does. If he’s that worried that Strucker’s gonna hurt you for taking his money, then you better listen to him and pay up. You didn’t follow your end of the deal either, Steve. The money wasn’t yours to take.”

“He tried to make me fuck a girl that didn’t want it! You know how I am about that shit!” Steve snapped back, looking up at her. “Besides, that money wasn’t even for me! It went to someplace that needed it more than I did!”

Natasha didn’t even flinch at his outburst. “Okay, so where did the money go. Maybe you can get it back long enough to get him off your ass and then pay them again later.”

Steve paused. He looked down at the counter again, shaking his head. He couldn’t do that. Not to her-- not after his promise. “I can’t do that, Tasha. I really can’t…” He looked down at the counter and sighed. Well this was going to be fucking glorious. If he didn’t get any clients that were willing to pay up that much that quickly, he was definitely screwed.

Like a lead weight, the reality of Steve's situation hit him like a rock, leaving him feeling numb and heavy-limbed as he sat at the bar in defeat. Sadly enough, Steve had been feeling the pinch in his wallet over the past year, and it only seemed to be getting worse. Sure-- sure, he had a pocketbook of steady clients that loved working with him on a weekly basis. But that number was very slowly beginning to dwindle away and these days, Steve had been hard pressed to find replacement clients to work with. Over the past few months he'd been close to missing a couple bill payments, especially since his donation habit had kicked in full swing; if he didn't gather new regulars for his work, Steve's bank was going to start running dry faster than he liked.

Sure, he had his loyal clients. Sure, he looked fucking hot as hell and had a sex drive like no one else. Sure, he could satisfy anyone that he took to bed with him to the point of toe numbing bliss-- but the fact of the matter was simply that Steve was just getting on in age and for a sex worker, he felt more like he was 90, than 34, compared to his competition. He could stand on the corner all he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that it was the young workers that got picked up faster than he did, despite his reputation. He used to reel in thousands in a single streak. Now he was lucky if he earned that same amount in double the time. He hated admitting it, but he was just getting old and not a lot of people wanted to pay for sex with a guy that was getting close to 40 years old...

Steve sighed, slumping in defeat as he stared at the countertop sadly. “Fuck, Tasha, I got bills to pay too. And my client book isn’t exactly full of people willing to dole out that much money at once.”

Natasha didn’t speak. Instead, she reached across the counter and patted his arm, giving him a sympathetic look. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can help out at the bar here for extra cash. Tony probably wouldn’t mind the extra hands”

Steve looked up at her, taking in the caring glance she offered him. He cracked a small smile in return and nodded quietly, grateful for her suggestion, though he knew he probably wouldn’t accept such charity so easily. He knew his pride wouldn’t allow him to give in; not when he felt like he could take care of himself without worry. “Yeah… thanks Tasha,” he sighed finally, picking up his whiskey glass to take a tentative sip and put an end to the discussion at last.

Just as he did, Tony returned behind the bar, his face a mask of discontent. “So looks like you’re out of the woods for now. Strucker and Rollins took off for some business, or whatever it is they call it in their little drug ring, and won’t be around for a couple weeks. According to my informant, when they come back, they wanna see the money again or there’s gonna be some serious hell to pay,” he said, leaning his elbows on the counter to regard Steve with a careful eye. “You got some time, but you better pay up. I don’t think my contacts can keep you safe if they decide they wanna skin you alive for what you did.”

Steve relaxed a bit, looking down at the counter. Okay, he could pull 5 thousand in a couple weeks. That was at least somewhat doable if he worked his ass off. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. “Thanks, Tony.”

“You’re welcome. Just tell me why you thought taking that much money from a drug lord was a good idea, and I'll never harass you about it again.”

Steve shrugged, looking up at him with a defiant look. “Wanted to make a point to him that he can’t just bully other people around because he’s got the cash to do it…” he stated sullenly, looking up at Tony. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same in my position.”

“Not necessarily. I like where my head is-- on my shoulders.” Tony snorted, shaking his head at him. “So, other than pissing off a drug lord, what other kind of trouble did you get into. You walked in looking mighty smug before I dropped that truth bomb on your ass. Who else did you score last night?”

Ah, finally. A change in conversation Steve could get on board with. His smile returned to his face as he thought back to the handsome priest the night before, and he leaned back against the counter, flashing them both smug looks as he winked. “Didn’t have any other clients last night, but I did go down in history if you really wanna know…”

Natasha raised a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh? And how did you manage to do that?”

Steve chuckled, turning back to them and giving a coy shrug as if it weren't that big of a deal (yeah, it really was). “Mmmmm…. may or may not have flirted with a pretty little priest from the neighborhood. Best part about it is he really didn’t seem like he was too against the whole thing to begin with.”

Tony stared at him, aghast for a moment, before he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and stood back up. “Jesus you-- you…” Tony inhaled, shaking his head and scrubbing his fingers over his face in an exasperated show of resignation. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. You can go find a nice cozy little nook in hell to go curl up in. I got a business to run, happily on this side of the moral line. Have fun scoping out the clientele. And for God’s sake, please don’t fuck any nuns in the back rooms. I don’t fuckin’ feel like hiring an exorcist when this place goes tits up, you got me?”

Steve nodded, mock-saluting Tony from across the bar before grinning. “You got it Stark. Enjoy running your business.”

Tony snorted in return and left the bar, setting off into the club to survey his patrons and leaving Steve and Natasha alone for the time being.

Steve laughed, leaning his elbows on the counter as he watched Tony vacate the counter finally. Feeling a little better than he had a few minutes ago, he picked up his glass and gave Natasha a side-eyed look and a flash of a grin. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked, holding out his glass to her with a grin on his features. “What can I do to prove it to you?”

Natasha, having been halfway through mixing another drink for a customer, shot a dark look back to Steve before topping off his glass with more whiskey. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, because I really do. I think you’re fuckin’ crazy. Coming onto a priest like that is basically begging for half the people in this town to burn you at the stake. That’s like… you know what, I don't even know what to compare that to, it's so bad.”

“And yet, there’s so many erotic novels and stories out there about this fetish,” Steve commented, tapping his finger on his jaw before he burst into a fit of giggles.

“No. No there are really not…” Natasha paused in her complaints at that moment, looking up at him from where she was bent over behind the counter. “So… tell me. How exactly did you manage to get close enough to a priest to flirt with him anyway?”

Steve leaned over the counter to see her better, and he shrugged. “Rollins’ goons were on my ass, so I slipped into his house to hide out. He got the assholes to leave me alone for the night, and even gave me food and a place to sleep too. Betcha my eye would have turned out looking way worse if he hadn’t broken out the first aid kit too.”

Natasha paused, giving him a careful glance before she rested her hands on her hips. “He knew what it is you do for a living? And he was okay with it?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he figured it out. Wasn’t the first time I ran into him either. Yesterday morning, he was out for a jog or something and he caught me out on the corner. He gave me his jacket to keep warm with,” Steve paused, really thinking it over. “He’s nothing like the other priests I've run into. Hell, he’s a fuck-lot better than most non-clergymen I’ve run into. He actually seems to care…”

“You said he’s young right?” Natasha asked, pressing her hands to the bar stock. “Young and handsome? Maybe he’s just not used to the ropes yet. I got a hunch that maybe he’s just starry-eyed still and wanted to offer up the good work to the first person he passed by…”

Steve listened, and visibly flinched at her callous explanation. “Wow.. that’s real fuckin’ comforting.” He shot back to her, narrowing his eyes.

“My point being,” Natasha added, calming his own temper with a glare of her own. “ Is be careful. Don’t go around flirting with this guy all over the place because he could get you into serious trouble if he decides that he didn’t like you flirting with him at all. You got me? Last thing I wanna see is you ending up on a sexual predator list because a priest lost his good will and decided to turn you over to the cops for assault. You know like hell he’d have a better case over you than the other way around.”

Steve relaxed, looking down at the bar with a weak smile. “Didn’t think you actually gave a shit about me.”

“Oh don’t start your shit with me, Rogers,” Natasha chuckled, slapping him in the arm with her towel. “I mean it. Just be careful with this priest okay? Don’t go and see him again, because knowing you, if he’s as hot as you say he is, you’re not gonna be able to keep your hands off of him.”

Steve shrugged again, jumping up from the barstool, and cracked his shoulders to loosen them. “Aw relax, Nat. I’m probably never gonna see him again. It was just harmless flirting, nothing else.” With that, Steve turned his attention back to the dance floor, his eyes roaming the participants looking for that little blonde girl he’d seen earlier in the evening. Gone, probably off with her friends for the night now. Drat. “Anyway, I gotta get to work. Have to make up for the pay I didn’t get last night.”

Natasha just waved him off, turning her attention back to her customers. “Have fun. And don’t you touch those bathrooms again, I just had them cleaned, Rogers!”

Steve saluted her as well, and turned to stalk his way into the crowd. His eyes roamed over the patrons carefully, physically intent on finding a customer for the evening.

And yet, as he prowled the dancefloor, finding a few willing participants to let him grind against and woo with his words, Steve’s mind couldn’t help but wander back to that priest the night before. Maybe Natasha was right; Maybe James was just being overly nice for the sake of his vocation, and had no hesitation in turning Steve over to the cops if he so much as made a wrong move around him.

Well, there went returning his jacket to him.

Still, Steve couldn’t shake how physically drawn James had been towards him; It was more than simply shyness that kept him rooted to the spot while Steve had showered compliments on him like rose petals. James actually seemed like he wanted to hear more, receive more from Steve than he was really letting on. Besides, how could someone with blue eyes and a friendly smile like James ever maliciously try to lure in someone to hurt them? It just didn’t seem like it was in his genes.

Steve was an expert at spotting and wooing pretty people; but what he didn’t tell others was how damn good he was at seeing the true goodness in another person. That could be his only explanation as to why he continued to hang out at Stark’s club. Tony and Natasha: Good people. Strucker, Rollins: Very bad people.

Other priests, clergymen, nuns, and do-gooder catholics that existed in the world and turned their noses up against himself and his fellow full-service workers: Not always good people.

But James was totally different. Steve didn’t know or understand why, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was definitely going to be seeing James again soon, and on a not so casual basis. Did he lie to Natasha about his intentions? Maybe, but it wasn’t exactly her business who Steve did or didn’t flirt or fuck. That business was his, and his alone, and if it came back to bite him in the ass later one, then that was his problem.

Steve had been so tied up in thinking about James the entire night, he found himself penniless and alone as he frustratedly walked back to his home for the night. No clients; none at all. Maybe a lot of them could tell that his mind was elsewhere, and steered clear of him for the night. Normally, Steve wouldn’t be concerned, but with Strucker’s deadline looming just a couple weeks away, 5 thousand dollars wasn’t going to be easy to come by if he only got one client at night. Being a sex worker at nearly 35 years old might have been, “exotic”, but there just weren’t people out there willing to pay a middle aged man as much money as they would have a young buck in his early 20’s.

Frustrated and tired, Steve returned to his home and locked himself away for the night. Technically, it was early at 2 in the morning, but he was too sore and too flustered to really give a shit that night.

Kicking off his boots and jacket, Steve turned for his closet and plucked the door open to hang his jacket up. But as he did, he saw James’ brown running jacket on the hook again, and he stared at it for a long moment. Fuck, he could practically smell that priest’s (Deacon, he had to remember that) scent on the jacket even now. Steve didn’t really know how to describe it, but as he held the jacket in his hand, he could catch a faint whiff of something soothing and clean, like the scent of fresh linens or powder. Steve hovered for a moment, staring at the jacket before he took a deep whiff of the clean, comforting smell, and relaxed.

He didn’t really know why, but moments later, Steve found himself rummaging through his fridge for food, the jacket slung over his shoulder carefully. When he had himself a few slices of cold pizza on a plate and a beer in his hand, He wandered back into his bedroom, where he collapsed down onto the mattress with a tired sigh. With a careful hand, Steve set the beer and pizza down onto the side table, and looked at the jacket he held carefully in his fingers. He thought of warm blue eyes… silky brown hair.

It occurred to him almost too late, that part of why he hadn’t scored any clients that night had been because he’d been looking for those traits all along. Now that was just strange for Steve Rogers; he was never picky when it came to choosing his clients, but the longer he thought about it, the more Steve came to realize he’d been totally enthralled by the innocent spirit he'd run into, literally by accident.

“Man…” Steve grumbled, letting the jacket collapse to the bedding next to him. “What the hell are you doin’ to me, James…”

* * *

 

**Two weeks later**

It was almost two full weeks since the incident in James’ home, and only now did the Deacon finally begin to let go of his inherent guilt for the whole affair. After he’d run off on Sam from his unfortunate bodily reaction to the thought of Steve, James kept to himself for several days, too ashamed to speak to Sam for his reaction, and too afraid to know what Sam must have thought of him for sporting such an unfortunate indication of his inner thoughts.

It had taken him almost a week to come out of hiding and face his friend again, but to his utter relief, Sam seemed to have swept the incident under the rug. At the very least he’d simply forgotten about it, because the next time James actually ran into Sam- by accident, really- Sam didn’t even bring it up, sparking a friendly conversation with James and going about his day as if everything were totally normal.

Relieved, James decided to brush off the incident himself, and pretend like it had never even happened. Besides, there was no reason to dwell on the past, not when he had such a lovely summer ahead for him. Spring had finally decided to arrive, and the last of the snow melted away from the landscape as the earth began to warm back up around them. With the change in the season, James found himself far more lively than he had been that winter, looking forward to getting the chance to spend as much time outside as he could. Besides, with the dawn of spring, it meant that another hideous winter had passed him by, and he didn’t have to be reminded of the dangers of ice and snow for several months to come. It was a nice change of pace for the Deacon’s nervous demeanor.

On a particularly warm day, James woke up and crawled out of bed to ready himself for another long day of classes to come. He didn’t particularly care for Fridays; those classes always ate away at the whole day, and as much as he enjoyed his preparatory work for his upcoming ceremony, James was far too interested in the idea of spending a day out in the sun to shake off the last of winter’s chill from his days.

But when he left his bedroom to take a shower and get ready for a long day of class, James found himself surprised to hear his phone ringing with an email notification. Curious, James checked the incoming mail, only to find that his director had sent out a mass message that class had been cancelled for the day and to prepare for make up lectures on Monday. Both surprised and pleased by this change, James found himself with a whole day to himself, and he decided to take advantage of that with a day out on the town.

Dressing in a pair of jeans and a well-loved grey sweater, James carefully fitted a leather glove over his prosthesis hand and shrugged into a thin black jacket before slipping from the building to the warm streets outside. The moment he stepped out into the sun, James found himself enraptured by the sight of the sunlight, and he turned his face up to the warm rays to soak up their heat for a moment. A small smile danced at the corners of his mouth as he opened his eyes, and he glanced about the city block, watching with satisfaction as the last of winter’s snow melted away in the heat of the sun’s rays.

Feeling livelier than he had in a long time, James set off on a brisk walk down the street, tossing about the idea of what he wanted to do to pass the day with. He was more than willing to spend the day even just walking the park if he had to. The last thing he wanted to do was stay cooped up in his home anymore than he needed to be. Too bad he didn’t have rehearsal that night; that would have been something fun to look forward to for that evening…

Deciding, finally, to just let the day take him where it will, James pushed his thoughts from his mind and simply let his feet carry him, allowing himself to enjoy the walk for what it was. He spent the day on the town, getting a bit of light shopping done, and enjoying the spring weather with delight. As the hours passed and the sun began its march towards the west, James found himself delaying the trek to return home for the evening. He was enjoying himself far too much to return to his quiet, lonely home for another long, boring evening. So he spent the remainder of his afternoon downtown as he watched other pedestrians as they passed him by, bustling about their daily lives without worry or concern. Some were businessmen, rushing to their cars to head to work. Some were children, playing in the streets after having spent an entire winter locked up inside.

Some were couples, walking hand in hand and laughing together as they enjoyed a warm spring day together. As he walked, James found his steps slowing as he watched one couple in particular; they shared a loving look between them while they walked before kissing happily, their hands locked in a tight embrace and shoulders bumping as they moved together. It was sweet, watching them fawn over each other as if they were the only two people in the world.

James paused, watching them as they turned the corner and headed down the block together, completely oblivious to the man observing them.  He watched them with faint interest, until he couldn’t see them anymore, and his smile softened to a thoughtful gaze. He’d never have the luxury of getting to enjoy a partner’s company like that, and it bothered him to even think that he was disappointed in that revelation. He pointedly ignored the fact that that concern had only been apparent to him in the past couple of weeks, mainly tied to the growing interest in a mysterious man he hadn’t seen in that time period.

Ah well. It’d be nice to officiate their wedding someday when he was a full-fledged priest. At least he’d get to enjoy a happy occasion from the other side of the altar then.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, James continued on his way, eyeing up the varying shops he passed to try and put his mind on something more pleasant. As he walked, the day grew warmer around him, and he shrugged out of his jacket to carry it over the crook of his prosthesis, though he kept his gloves on as he walked. He told himself that it was really because it was just chilly enough to want to protect his flesh and blood hand from the cold, rather than the fact he was still hiding his prosthesis from passers-by as he walked.

13 years later, James didn’t want to think that he was still self-conscious of what others thought of his handicap. Sure, he’d been given a second shot at life that not many others had the luck of receiving; he really wasn’t ungrateful for the cards dealt to him by God. He just didn’t feel like explaining to people why it was he wore such an obvious, metal appendage in the place of his arm. At least he slept better at night thinking that…

But just as the sun began its final descent in the sky and it seemed he would have to return home after all, James spotted the exterior of what appeared to be an ancient bookstore. From the outside, the place looked like it had seen quite a few renovations over the years, but he was pleased to see the shop still held a lovely 1940’s aesthetic to its appearance.

A bookstore; now that was a place he could happily while away some time on such an easy-going day. With his mind made up, James quickly crossed the street and entered the shop, grateful for the shade and the cool air inside. He pushed his dark hair from his face and plucked his glove from his right hand as he examined the inside of the shop with interest. The walls were lined with hundreds of books, many of them leather bound and homely looking.

“What a nice place,” James muttered to himself, smiling as he made his way into the shop to investigate its wares. The shelves were marked with varying signs, proudly displaying the intended genre they held, and he instantly found interest in a wall of books marked “American History”. His eyes scanned the shelves for a moment before landing on the binding of a book on the World Wars. With a curious look, James plucked the book from the shelf and began leafing through the pages, admiring the hand-crafted feel of the old book in his hand. Sure, it was quite a few years out of print, and he was certain that a lot of the history had been updated since its publication, but he couldn’t help but love the feel of the heavy book in his hand, nor could he help but admire the old print and the feel of the rugged paper against his fingertips.

James was so preoccupied with reading the book, he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. But seconds after he’d turned the page of the book in his hand, James was startled from his silence at a loud proclamation of “Preach!” behind him, and the feel of a heavy hand dropping onto his shoulder that jarred him from his thoughts with a yelp of surprise.

“Whoa!” James exclaimed, startled from his thoughts. He was so spooked by the gesture, he dropped the book where it fell onto his foot, and he jumped in pain as the heavy binding fell corner first right onto his toe.

Behind him, a laugh erupted into the quiet bookstore, and James whirled on his heel to give a good, stern lecture at the man that had scared him so badly. But the minute he turned around and laid eyes on the man behind him, James felt his words dying on his tongue and his throat dried up in an instant. “Steve?” he gasped, staring up at him with wide eyes as his heart began to race in his chest.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks, and he’d done so well in no thinking about him! Why now?! Briefly, James wondered what he’d done to deserve God tormenting him with the presence of this man, and he found himself blushing dark red as he watched Steve double up with laughter, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

‘ _Why… why is this happening to me? He’s so pretty when he laughs…’_

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed exuberantly, looking up at James as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’m sorry I startled ya like that. Lucky I looked up when I did otherwise I might not have noticed you. I wanted to get your attention and say hi!”

James nodded, feeling highly embarrassed by the whole ordeal as he watched Steve finally get his laughter under control again. “You saw me walk in?” he asked, more curious as to why Steve had gone out of his way to speak to him. They have, after all, not seen each other in two weeks… “I didn’t see you outside at all. How did you know I came in here?”

Steve shrugged at James, stooping to pick up the book James had dropped and dusting off the binding with his palm before he gestured to the shop’s logo embroidered into the collar of his shirt. “I work here. Christ, ya walked right past me when you walked in! I’m surprised you didn’t see me!”

“Oh,” James said intelligently, staring at Steve’s work polo for a moment. He was so surprised by this revelation, he didn’t even have the heart to correct Steve on cursing around him, and he looked up at the blond with a small smile on his lips. “I didn’t know that. Is this a temporary thing, or…”

“Nah,” Steve said, waving off the statement. “I work here part time. It helps to make sure I got enough money to pay bills at the end of the month, just in case the other job doesn’t cut it, ya know?” Steve winked at James, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He gave the Deacon a good, long once over, his eyes skimming over his figure for a moment before he licked his lips and met his gaze again. “So where’s the priest clothing? You goin’ incognito today or something?”

It took James a split second to understand what Steve was saying; when he caught on, James looked down at his clothing and he chuckled. “Oh, this? I actually dress like this all the time.”

“No shit?” Steve asked. He leaned his hip against the bookshelf as he smiled down at James, his eyes twinkling in the lowlight. “So how come you were wearin’ ‘em when I ran into you that one night?”

“I had to step in and help officiate a Communion ceremony,” James explained. He found himself leaning against the same bookshelf as he smiled up at Steve, copying the casual gesture, feeling much more relaxed around him than he had been around many people for a very long time.

“Cool! What was it like? Did you get to do any of the actual stuff or did you just have to watch?”

James hesitated, listening to Steve’s inquiry with a surprised smile. Strange, how invested Steve seemed to be in his work. Most people didn’t seem the least bit interested in what James did, but Steve- he actually looked like he wanted to sit down and listen to an entire explanation of what it was James did in the church. A whole, boring explanation that most people stopped listening to five minutes into the conversation. James’ heart fluttered a little in his chest.

“Actually, it was practice. I, for the most part, ran the whole ceremony,” James explained, feeling a swell of pride in his chest as he beamed up at his companion. “I won’t go into details, it’s… a little long and boring to most people, but I thought it was fascinating.”

“Oh, please, by all means. I wanna hear about it,” Steve replied, gesturing at James to continue. Never once, did his smile leave his face, the curiosity shining brightly in his eyes.

Oh Lord, James felt his heart swelling in his chest at that very moment. He stared up at Steve in awe, finding himself unable to speak for a moment as he really took stock of Steve’s interest in his work. No one ever wanted to hear the details. No one was ever invested enough in him to care.

However, before James could speak up and begin explaining the details of the ceremony- with definite enthusiasm- a throat cleared behind the two men and they looked up to see an older gentleman wearing the same polo as Steve staring at them. Or more aptly, at Steve.

“Rogers. Hate to break up the communal discussion, but we close in ten minutes? Those boxes in the back need to be shelved before yer outta here.” the man said. his voice was gruff, like he’d gargled with gravel that morning, and he gestured at the back of the store with a vague disinterest. “Don’ forget yer keys. Yer lockin’ up alone tonight.”

“Yes, sir, I’m on it,” Steve said. He stood upright and saluted his boss, flashing him a bright, cheesy smile in return. When the older man simply grumbled under his breath and walked out of the shop without another word, Steve deflated instantly and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Ugh… hate when he takes off like this on Fridays. Always leaves me the biggest boxes to put away alone…”

“Did you want help?” James offered. He stepped up to Steve’s side and shrugged, looking about the small alcove they stood in together. “I’m not doing anything right now. I don’t mind giving you a hand if there’s that many books to go out.”

Steve paused, looking down at him before his eyes darted to James’ left arm. “Are you sure? They’re kinda heavy… like… I don’t want you hurting yourself you know?”

All at once, the good cheer James felt withered away to nothing and he offered up a blank glance. Blank, considering he was fighting like mad to keep the scowl from darkening his features. “I can manage. I do quite a bit already with my left arm. I really don’t mind helping you at all.”

Steve hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered it. “Oh… well if you’re sure. I wouldn’t mind the company that’s for damn sure.”

James watched him, sensing the discomfort Steve felt at judging his abilities so quickly. Instantly, James relaxed and he offered him a comforting look. “It’s okay. A lot of people get concerned over that. You have no idea how many people have tried to baby me over my arm…”

“I can only imagine,” Steve said, sounding far more apologetic and distant than James liked. Still, he straightened his shoulders out, looking determined to put the oversight behind them and he gestured to the back. “Well if you insist. Back here. But you have to wear the hideous apron. Everyone that works here and forgets their work shirt has to wear it. Sorry, no getting out of this one,” he added, winking at James playfully.

James chuckled, following after Steve as the two of them made their way back to the storage room. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Steve did end up handing him the apron in question, and he graciously put on the dark blue (and vaguely frilly) garment without complaint. Once he was properly dressed, James bent and picked up one of the boxes and followed Steve out to the shop.

The two of them worked in near silence, speaking only enough for Steve to tell James where to file each book on the shelf, and chuckling every so often when a pile would come cascading to the floor again, leaving a mess of books to be picked up every now and again. All in all, it was a fairly comfortable atmosphere between the two men, working in tandem as they filed and settled books in their proper places.

Still, despite his assurance that everything was fine, James couldn’t help but feel a little bothered that once again, his handicap had labeled him to someone he barely knew. Despite the bright facade he put on every day, James couldn’t help but be reminded of all the times he felt himself shriveling up a little bit more every time he felt the need to hide his arm from someone, or brush off the odd statement from others when they did happen to find out what exactly was wrong with his arm.

Vaguely, James wondered if Steve suffered any sort of aches and pains like he did. It was clear to James that Steve was not much younger than he was, but a quick recap of the sex worker’s body told James that the blond was far more fit than most people their age. It must have been nice to be 35 years old and not have to worry about any sort of discomfort that slowed down day to day living.

Briefly, James felt a wiggle of jealousy that Steve had gotten so lucky in his life; that illness or injury hadn’t taken away his strength or his physique in any way. Did Steve suffer any ailments or chronic diseases? James was pretty sure he didn’t, if the confident and sure way he carried himself as he carried another heavy box from the back room was anything to go by.

How lucky some people were that they could be so inherently flawless in their lives…

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Steve didn’t bring up James’ arm again, even after James felt his grip slipping on a particularly large order of books, nor made a face of concern when James shifted his grip with a grimace, rolling his bad shoulder to realign the prosthesis hidden under his sleeve back against his stump. Instead, Steve only stepped in silently, helping James adjust his grip on the box and offering him an encouraging smile before returning to his own books with a whistle.

All too soon, the two men had the books properly put away and left the shop together. James waited patiently as Steve locked up the store, and turned back to him, pocketing his keys with a bright look dancing in his eyes.

“So. Thanks for the help, Preach. Usually I don’t get out on time when I gotta do this myself.”

James waved off the thanks, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he beamed at him. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad I got to help.” Glancing up and down the sidewalk for a moment, James turned back to Steve and lowered his voice. “Do you have to work tonight? I mean.. any clients lined up?”

Steve paused, his smile turning wry for a moment. “Jesus, still not used to the fact that you’re so okay with it,” he laughed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Yeah. but I don’t gotta be anywhere until around midnight.”

“Ah,” James muttered, shifting his stance a little to stand next to Steve. “Well, good luck with whatever it is you have planned. Try not to get punched again,” he said, winking up at him.

“Nahh!” Steve snorted, shaking his head at him. “Nah, this is a good guy. He doesn’t cause much of a fuss at all. He likes being all shy and shit when we hook up. Somethin’ about him getting the chance to unwind and not have to be in charge for a few hours. If you get my drift,” he added with a wiggle of his brow.

James listened, and his mind began to flicker with the vague idea of what Steve was talking about. He really didn’t have much knowledge of what that might truly entail, but he was smart enough to get the picture. His cheeks flushed a little and he looked down at the ground as he cleared his throat. “I don’t really know what that’s all about but… I think I have an idea.”

“Mmmhm,” Steve added. He sidled up to James’ right and their shoulders brushed briefly, before he leaned in, his breath brushing against the side of James’ ear for a moment as he whispered. “I think you got a better idea than what yer lettin’ on, Father…”

James inhaled sharply, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “Still flirting with me? Even if you have a client to see later?” Honestly, James hadn’t the slightest idea of why the idea of Steve flirting with him just hours before going and bedding another man had his stomach twisting itself up, but as he stared at Steve, he realized that the twist in his gut was not of dismay or disgust, but of curiosity and interest. Blast…

“Hey, I haven’t seen ya in like two weeks. I gotta make up for lost time,” Steve added, his grin lecherous as he met his gaze. Steve’s eyes burned with a fire James was not familiar with, but it was a fire reserved for him all the same and James knew it. “Why? Does that bother you?”

Instantly, James’ throat dried up as he stared up at Steve, and he swallowed. “N-no…”

“Good,” Steve murmured. Without a word, he turned on James, face to face with the Deacon as he backed him up to the wall of the shop for a brief moment. “So, since we’re here, wanna go have dinner with me? I got a few hours, and I’d rather not be alone for that. Havin’ dinner with someone is a lot more fun you know- especially when the view is so nice.”

Cornered by the tall, muscled figured in front of him, James felt the rough grooves of brick at his back as he stared up at Steve. His eyes darted to the sidewalk on either side of them, looking to see if anyone was around to witness this. He licked his lips tentative before meeting Steve’s gaze again; he could feel his pulse leaping to life in his throat as he stared up at that wanting look with morbid interest. “I-I… I don’t know, Steve…”

“Shh… It’s okay. Just dinner,” Steve prompted. He placed his hand on the wall just above James’ shoulder and he tilted his head in invitation. “Just dinner. I promise.”

“Is this…” James swallowed again. ‘ _Is it hot out? It’s hot out.’_ he thought to himself, frantic. “Is this a- a date?” he asked, though his voice cracked a bit on the last word.

“Yes,” Steve said, his voice dropping into a low timbre. No preamble. No explanation. Just ‘yes’. He stared down at James expectantly, hovering just inches in front of his face as he waited for his answer.

James panicked. Outright panicked. As he stared up at Steve, feeling the pressing heat of his body in front of him, the ghost of his breath against his lips, James completely lost his cool and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. In hindsight, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever said in his life, but he really couldn’t be blamed, could he?

“B-Breadsticks,” he blurted out, feeling his cheeks flushing dark red the minute the word left him. But when Steve only gave him a confused look, James couldn’t help but explain himself further, albeit meekly. “First date should include breadsticks…” he murmured, looking down at the ground between them. “At least… at least that’s what I’d imagine I’d eat on my first date…”

Steve didn’t speak for a moment, just giving him a blank look and James felt himself sinking a little bit into the dirt. Now he just felt ashamed of himself. Really, what was he doing? Barring the fact that he was going to be a darn _priest,_ the first thing he’d gone and done after seeing Steve, the guy he’d been internally obsessing about for two weeks, was to say the dumbest thing anyone could ever say. Breadsticks? First date wishes? Was he 12 years old?

“Sorry,” James murmured, pulling away from Steve’s side. He didn’t look up at him before speaking again. “Just- never mind. I’ll see you around. Good luck tonight.”

Without another word, James set off, walking briskly down the sidewalk as he headed back to his brownstone. Tail figuratively tucked between his legs, James couldn’t find it in himself to look back at Steve, too ashamed to see what expression the man was giving him.

Too ashamed of himself for letting his curiosity drag him down the rabbit hole.

James silently cursed himself, keeping his head ducked as he avoided the eyes of other walkers as he finally turned the corner of his block. He practically ran the rest of his way back to his brownstone and shut himself inside, leaning back against the door as he stared at the floor in front of his feet. His stomach felt like it was in knots. He didn't know if he wanted to vomit or kick himself stupid.

He’d done it. He’d gone and done it. Already lower than dirt, James had gone and bitten the fruit and allowed himself to be tempted a second time. And this time, he’d lost. He’d lost so very badly. He didn’t know what he was more ashamed of: the fact that he’d thrown his whole vow down the drain and allowed himself to be lured in by the eyes of another man, or the fact that he’d completely taken the opportunity Steve had given him and stomped it into the dirt.

“Breadsticks?” he asked himself bitterly, shaking his head as he kicked his shoes off and threw them into the corner by the door. “ _Breadsticks_?! He’s an educated, experienced man and I’m talking about breadsticks?!” Frustrated, James slunk into his home and collapsed into the sofa, too conflicted and confused to care about the state of his sofa cushions to pick them up where they fell to the floor.

He’d gotten an erection in front of Sam thinking about Steve. He’d allowed Steve to get close to him and lure him into the idea of a date. And he was pissed at himself that he’d taken his very first opportunity to allow someone to flirt with him and he’d ruined it by being a total idiot. James realized, then, that he was a lost cause; with only six months to go before he was ordained a priest, James knew he was well and truly screwed.

Maybe he really was meant to be alone.

As he sat on the sofa for God only knew how long, wallowing in his absolute failure to be a human being, James barely heard a knock coming from his front door. Only when he heard a second knock ring loud and clear through his home, did James look up at the front door. Deja vu hit him like a brick as he realized how similar this was to just two weeks prior, and he felt a shiver of hope in his chest. “What the…”

Getting to his feet, James crossed the room and opened the door, wondering what on earth he was expecting to find there. But when he did open the door, James paused, staring at the figure of Steve standing in front of him, holding a pizza box in his hand and offering him a bright smile.

Steve had come back. James thought he was going to pass out.

“Steve…?” he squeaked, feeling his throat tightening up with excitement.

“Like I said,” Steve replied, holding the pizza box up to him expectantly. “I didn’t want to eat alone tonight.”

James blinked, taking the pizza box from him and glancing down at the top. Di Fara was printed across the top of the box, and James felt himself flushing; Steve hadn’t taken his panic wrong. He still wanted to have dinner with him. How in God’s name had he struck gold this time?

Chuckling weakly, James looked up at Steve and shrugged. “Pizza, that’s- not bad,” he said weakly, fighting the urge to smile at him like a crazed man. “But no breadsticks, so, not a date huh?”

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled his free hand from behind his back, holding up a bag of garlic breadsticks and waving it in a teasing gesture. “How could I forget?”

James didn’t speak for a moment. A laugh bubbled up from his gullet and he snorted, shaking his head as he stared down at the breadsticks in Steve’s hand in absolute fascination. “Oh,” he finally said as he flashed a relieved smile at Steve. “Well, come in then.”

“Thought you’d never ask. I mean, I’m all for standin’ on some Deacon’s front stoop all night, but I’m pretty sure the neighbors might talk,” Steve chuckled. He followed James inside, gently shutting the door behind him before he turned and flashed James a daring smile. “Kitchen?”

“Uhm- yes. I try not to eat in the living room if I can help it,” James said. He motioned with his head for Steve to follow him and lead their little party of two into the kitchen. Settling the pizza box down onto the counter, James opened the box and glanced down at the food Steve had brought him, and his mouth began to water. “Been awhile since I’ve had pizza. Is this bacon?” he asked, looking up at Steve.

Of course the minute he did look up, James found himself face to face with Steve, and he fought the urge to lean back in shock. He hadn’t even heard Steve moving across the room at all and yet here he was, up close with the man, barely inches apart. James felt his throat drying up and he swallowed thickly, trying to find his tongue again. “Uhhm, I’m… let me get you a plate.”

Steve smiled down at him, nodding a little. “Yeah, sounds good, Preach. You do that…” Pressing his hands to the counter on either side of James’ hips, Steve leaned in a bit more. His eyes darkened a bit as he watched the Deacon carefully like a hawk. They were so close to each other, James could feel Steve’s body heat ebbing off of him once again like a protective shield, warming him where he stood; they were so close, Steve could practically lean in and kiss him right where he stood.

Frankly, James rather hoped he didn't, at least for a little while more.

Shaking himself back to the present, James looked up at Steve and noted the amused look he gave him. Clearly, Steve had caught on that James had slipped back into his headspace for a moment, and the Deacon blushed a little. “... Okay. Plate… plate.” he said dumbly. He looked down where Steve’s hands were still framing his hips on the counter, and he shifted, wondering if Steve would move his hands enough for him to turn around. Steve didn’t move an inch.

A sliver of bemusement overtook James and he looked up at Steve, raising a brow at him. “Are you going to move?” he asked, slapping on a carefree smile despite the fact that his heart was racing so hard he felt like it could burst out of his chest.

Steve smirked, looking down between themselves. “I think you got enough room to turn around.” he said, shrugging a little as he winked at him. “By all means. Get those plates, I’m starvin’.”

“Right,” James murmured. He looked down between them again, and decided ‘why not’. He did have room to move, at least enough to turn around. Resolving to just go with it, James twisted in the cradle of Steve’s arms until he could feel the phantom brush of Steve’s chest against his back. But just as he reached up to open the cupboard and grab two plates, the warmth at his back grew, and before he knew it, James felt Steve wrap his arms around his waist, locking them to his hips, and the broad expanse of Steve’s chest line up with his back until the two men were flush from shoulder to hip.

Flushing dark red, James spluttered as he looked over his shoulder at the other, his eyes wide and panicked. “St-Steve…?”

“Shh, Father,” Steve chuckled. He leaned in, letting his lips brush the shell of James’ ear for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low and sultry. “You’re doin’ real good…”

“Doing good.. at what?” James asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Steve laughed again, and he rested his chin on the man’s shoulder to gaze at him. “On your first date. You’re handlin’ it real well. I’m proud of you.”

James paused, looking up at Steve for a moment. He _was_ handling it pretty well, he had to admit to himself. He hadn’t lost his cool at all, he was loving the attention (though he had to admit he was feeling completely overwhelmed by the magnitude with which Steve was showering his attention on him), and he hadn’t said anything else stupid. Yet. “T-thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re handling this all on your own.” Steve leaned back a little grinning at him broadly. As he did, his hand slithered from where he had it resting on James’ stomach and came to rest on his hip. “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly?” James paused, looking down at the pizza in front of them. He didn’t really know why he decided that was such a good thing to stare at, but at least it gave him something else to focus on for a moment. “A little overwhelmed… like this is going so fast. I don’t know what to do next.”

“Nothin’ you don’t wanna do. You gotta be comfortable with the pace, James. I ain’t gonna do anything to you that you don't’ want, okay?”

James nodded, looking over his shoulder at Steve. “We’re not going to kiss yet, are we? I don’t know the proper-- order of how this is supposed to go.”

“Do you feel comfortable with the idea of kissing yet?” Steve asked. His hand never strayed away from James’ hip as he spoke, his grip solid but gentle. When James shook his head, Steve’s fingers loosened. “But you like me touching you.”

This time, James nodded. He lowered his gaze to the counter, feeling himself shriveling up in concern just a little. He’d have felt ashamed of his shyness, had Steve not given him a reassuring look and a comforting nudge. “It’s okay. We don’t have to kiss right now. We don’t ever have to kiss if you don’t wanna. I’m just glad to see that you’re opening up to me. That’s good.”

With his reassurance, James finally felt the tension in his chest abate fully, and he slumped. Relaxing back against the strong chest behind him, James allowed himself a moment to just _feel._ Feel what it was like to be held and comforted, assured and adored. He liked this. He liked this so much more than he knew he should.

As he allowed himself to relish the comfort and adoration ebbing off of Steve’s warm figure, James felt Steve’s hand move from his hip down, and behind James. Inhaling sharply, James felt Steve brush his palm across his backside before cupping his left buttock and giving a gentle squeeze. He twisted slightly in Steve’s grip, looking up at him with awe. “Are you touching…”

“Your ass?” Steve snorted. He nodded in return and allowed his palm to continue gliding along his backside, touching anywhere he liked. “Of course. It’s a very nice ass.” As he continued to fondle James’ backside, Steve paused. “Is that okay if I touch you here?”

He should have said no. Already feeling overwhelmed by the sheer attention Steve was giving him, James could feel his doubts seeping back into his thoughts, and he swallowed down the bubble of a frustrated scream that threatened to overtake him. He wanted this to end, but, he wanted to keep this going as long as possible. He was sinning so horribly, allowing Steve to touch him like this in his house and allowed himself to be corrupted so easily. But, he couldn’t say no. He physically could _not_ find it himself to push the other away. He _wanted_ to feel this light, this airy delight of being adored and by someone as beautiful as Steve. No- specifically by Steve. He wanted Steve to touch him everywhere, at least for this one moment.

So he nodded. He gave permission to Steve, to continue to fondle him and treat him like the finest glass. When he gave Steve his affirmative, James was delighted to see Steve’s smile return tenfold, and the feel of his hands continued to glide along his torso, along his backside, touching him where he wanted, but never crossing the line and brushing over his groin. It seemed that once again, Steve had far too much respect for James to go any further than what he was comfortable with. Maybe this would be a good experience for James after all.

Maybe James really _was_ falling in love with this insane, blond treasure.

Even still, he was helpless but to feel his conscience begin to stir with each passing moment Steve allowed his fingers to glide over his body; helpless but to feel guilty as he leaned into those arms encircling his waist.

‘ _James, stop it!’_ The rational side of James’ mind screamed at him, roused to a frenzy by the sudden change of events. ‘ _You’re not supposed to be doing this! You’re not supposed to be entertaining these thoughts! Stop it now before your ruin everything you’ve ever worked for!’_

But even as his conscience warred with itself, torn between pushing Steve away, and feeding the growing ember of curiosity and interest in himself, James couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from Steve’s gaze nor his soft lips. As much as he knew what he was doing was wrong, James couldn’t help but feel his very soul craving this change in his life. His mind was a jumble of thoughts: confusion, curiosity, horror, uncertainty…

But most of all, James felt happy; happy that he actually was getting the chance to experience what it felt like to be the diamond in someone’s eye, even if it was just fleeting. For years, James convinced himself that he was a man unfit for such things. He convinced himself that no one was meant to love him and when the opportunity came to pursue his sacred calling, he’d simply brushed childish wishes of romance and love out of his life for good.

And perhaps this was fleeting; James wasn’t a fool to think that Steve was in love with him. He was simply doing what _his_ calling intended him to do, and Steve’s vocation had decided that James should feel this passing desire, even as short as it may last in his life. And James couldn’t turn away from his own path, not when he was so close to fulfilling his destiny and becoming a priest, like he’d hoped to achieve the moment he woke up and realized God had spared his life 13 years ago.

But… maybe he could worry about his career later. After all, he’d never had the chance to ‘date’ anyone in his life. He had six months until his ordination anyway. Maybe he could indulge this curiosity for a while more, seek out his penitence when that time came and then step into the role he’d been preparing for himself for years. He’d indulge his wishes for love, even briefly, and then go back to his old life. Besides, it wasn’t like Steve was really going to fall in love with him. It wasn't like they were really going to sleep together… right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might not be familiar with Bible verses:
> 
> Genesis 3:6  
> When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.
> 
> Because we all know Bucky is totally crushing it as Eve here, isn't he? ;D


	3. Eve's Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James finds himself further conflicted in his feelings for Steve. It is a conflict, he realizes, that he cannot fight for long. Meanwhile, Steve has come to terms with the fact that he no longer wishes to conquer the Deacon, but instead, cherish him in a way he'd never believed possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not many notes for this chapter guys! I'm just relieved I got to go ahead and post this. I went ahead and beta'd it myself, considering i wrote the entire chapter out in one sitting about 3 weeks ago and wanted to post it asap. Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Now we're getting somewhere on their feelings for each other! i hope a lot of people's concerns about the ethical mindset of these two boys have been answered in this chapter. So let us go now and see what these two idiots can get up to now! It's a Romeo and Juliet Love Story, folks! ENJOY!!!

Steve stifled another yawn as he pressed his knuckles against his bottom lip; it was a poor attempt to hide the action, but at least he felt somewhat more polite than just letting his jaw hinge open like a snake. Despite his attempt at manners, however, his action didn’t escape the notice of his friend; when a slap landed on the side of his bicep, he glanced down to see Natasha glaring right at him with her hands firmly planted on her hips. “What? Why’d ya hit me?” he asked, rubbing his bicep and faking a pout.

Natasha rolled her eyes, doing her best to hide a smirk from him. “Oh don’t even give me those puppy eyes. We may be friends, but I don’t have to put up with your bullshit. You’re the one that goes out until the wee hours of the morning; s’not my fault if you can’t stay awake long enough to spend a day out in public like a civilized human being.”

Steve laughed, shouldering into her side for a moment before plucking his sunglasses from his face. “I had a good night last night. Managed to squeeze in one more client walking home.” He paused, rolling his shoulder gently. He could still feel the sting from teeth marks bruised into his shoulder, and he felt his chest swelling with delight at the memory. His last client had been a little on the feisty side that was for sure. She’d probably inflicted as many bruises and bites into his flesh as the rest of his clients combined that evening. Good for her. “So, what can I say? I’m allowed to be a little exhausted.”

“Ooh, extra pocket change huh?” Natasha asked. “So you’re buying me all the churros I want, right? Can’t go to Coney Island and not buy your friend churros.”

“Sorry,” Steve apologized. His smile did fade a bit as he settled his sunglasses into his pocket. “Kinda trying to build up a little nestegg. You know, don’t want my head cut off and served on a silver platter, right?”

“Ah right. Strucker. Because I actually don’t mind you hanging around the bar, I’ll give you that. But when you pay him back, blondie, you owe me churros.”

“You got it,” Steve commented with a salute. As he did, he plucked out his cell phone to check for any messages from clients for his week to come and make sure he was up to date on his personal schedule; he followed Natasha onto the boardwalk, enjoying the sounds of ocean water breaking the shore and the collective, distance screech of kids as they ran the docks after a long winter cooped up.

Honestly, Steve couldn’t be more grateful for the break in weather finally. He didn’t mind winter so much, but there was just nothing like a spring day, just warm enough in the sun’s rays, and cool enough in the shade to really get him going. Besides, with the first signs of spring it meant that his nightly career had finally taken a reprieve from freezing out in the snow and slush until the wee hours of the morning. He really didn’t like having to admit he hated freezing his ass off on street corners in the middle of January hoping for a pick-up. He was far too proud to admit he was getting too old to stand the cold anymore.

At least with the nice weather, he could get lost in his own little world and enjoy a leisurely walk. In fact, he was so engrossed in checking his emails, he barely looked up at all, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking down at his companion, Steve blinked. “Huh? Sorry did you say something?”

Natasha grumbled, pinching the soft skin under his arm before beaming up at him. “I asked you what happened to you stopping by the bar before starting your night. I know you were working the East end and you always stop by and chat before your first client. Kinda thought you got lost or something.”

Oh shit. Steve totally forgot about that. His cheeks flushed a little as he remembered the night before in vivid clarity. He _did_ always make it a priority to stop at Tony’s before meeting clients, especially if he was going to be near Canarsie. It was a regular occurrence, which resulted in Natasha often having a few drinks set aside for him specifically, while he shot the shit with Tony or the rest of the bartenders.  

But as it turned out, Steve had been a little _preoccupied_ before his first client. Preoccupied enough that he’d totally forgotten his usual ritual of grabbing a few drinks before work.

Still, it was a preoccupation he was _more_ than satisfied with.

Steve’s eyes drifted away from Natasha as he thought back to his impromptu “date’ and how glorious it had been. He could still picture James’ face and how flushed he’d been from just a simple touch; nothing more than arms wrapped around his waist and James had been absolute putty in Steve’s grip. A smile darted to the corner of his mouth as he thought of flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, blue eyes locked on his face and the faintest tremble he felt in James’ figure as he was crowded against the counter of the kitchen.

Shortly after Steve had asked James’ permission to touch him, the two men had fallen silent in the kitchen, divvying up slices of pizza onto plates and munching away in comfort. Steve remembered it all in stunning clarity; he hadn’t spoken a word as he ate, though his left hand never left James’ hip as he did and the close proximity of their bodies warmed the air considerably. Steve thoroughly enjoyed watching James shiver and sway in his arms; for several minutes, Steve didn’t know if the poor Deacon was going to faint or burst into fits of laughter. But with each moment that passed, the two of them had grown far more comfortable around each other; enough, even, that Steve could comfortably rest his palm on James’ stomach, pressing his chin to his shoulder and whispering sweet nothings of how well James was handling their “date”.

Still, as much a Steve had enjoyed teasing the ever living hell out of James, he was still professional enough to know when he was dancing dangerously close to the line. When James eventually looked as if he were growing uncomfortable again, Steve had backed off on his advances, allowing James a moment to relax and gather his bearings about himself.

After that, Steve feared he might have overstayed his welcome. Such a shame really. As much as he’d wanted to extend his visit and spend the remainder of the evening with James, he’d wisely left the decision up to the Deacon. If it had been left up to _Steve_ , he would have gladly stayed right up until the moment he had to meet up with his client; maybe coax a few more tentative steps out of James’ comfort zone if he could manage it. But it wasn’t Steve’s decision; it was James’ and there was no way in hell Steve was going to force his company onto the poor man without his consent.

He’d expected James to call it quits for the night and regroup from such a big change in his life. To Steve’s total surprise, James asked him to stay longer.

 _“I mean… there’s a new episode of Law and Order on tonight, and I don’t want to watch it alone…”_ James had offered shyly. Bless him, but Steve couldn’t shake how adorable he looked, shuffling his socked foot on the floor and twisting the hem of his sweater in his good hand. Steve knew people; he knew how to read their eyes and what they truly wanted. He could see perfectly clear that James didn’t want their date to end just yet.

Who was he to deny him that?

Instantly, Steve agreed to stay, taking a seat and curling up in the corner of the sofa as he smiled up at the Deacon in anticipation. Remote in hand, Steve had patted the cushion next to him with invitation in his eyes, totally expecting to repeat their very first night on that sofa two weeks prior. Notably, on opposite sides of the couch.

What he hadn’t anticipated was finding James surprising _him_ that time _._ Without a word, James had crossed the room eagerly and took roost, _actually curling up into Steve’s lap_ and tucking himself as small as he possibly could into the circle of his arms.

Taken totally by surprise, Steve was helpless but to simply encircle the other’s waist, holding him protectively against his chest; from this vantage point he could easily catch a whiff of the Deacon’s clean hair, and a delighted little shiver raced up his spine at the comforting scent. It was the most relaxed Steve had ever been in his life; the smaller, lithe body in his arms became a beacon of comfort and happiness as he carefully ran his fingers up the outside of James’ thigh as they watched their show in delight. Honestly, Steve’s night couldn’t have gone better; great food, a cozy atmosphere, the prospect of a good night’s work ahead of him. And the best part? James initiating this interaction all on his own. No tricks, no charm from Steve; this had been 100% James’ request, and Steve had been more than happy to give it to him.

It really wasn’t supposed to go like this. Two weeks prior, Steve might have thrown caution to the wind in order to flirt as mercilessly with James as he could. Two weeks ago, he would have tried to goad James into relenting at least enough of his self-control in order to get a kiss out of him. Steve would never push anyone to have sex with him; sex with Steve would always and forever be 100% consensual. But a kiss? Maybe breaking down his walls just a fraction? Maybe Steve would have done that.

But their “date” had been something totally different; Steve couldn’t explain it, but as he held James in his lap and felt James’ thumb brushing over his knee in absentminded strokes, Steve realized he didn’t want to push him into doing anything he didn’t want. He didn’t want to do anything that might hurt him, even just a little bit. He had a lot more respect for his friend than that.

And maybe that’s all they were truly meant to be when it came down to brass tacks. Friends. A sex worker and a priest didn’t walk the same social circles in the slightest, so honestly thinking that he would have ever gone beyond a snuggle-fest was just absurd. Steve knew this. How could he be stupid enough not to?

But just because Steve could logically see this ending with the two of them remaining mutually exclusive relationship-wise, that didn’t mean he wasn't starting to feel the floor fall out from under him every time he saw that smile flash in his direction, nor every moment James let his fingers dance across his leg that evening. Steve didn’t want to call it love; hell no. He couldn’t fall in love with someone after only seeing them twice. It just wasn’t the way his luck worked. No, Steve could only describe it as a deep-seated admiration for James at this point in time. The man was too sweet and too adorable for his own good. Too innocent as he experienced affection for the first time in half his life.

Besides, Steve wasn’t worthy enough to have someone like James fall in love with him. They would just be friends that Steve had a minor, teensy, infinitesimal crush on. A crush wasn’t love, and there was no way Steve was going to let his feelings ruin the beginning of a very good friendship he’d developed with this gorgeous human being.

Did it mean that was going to stop Steve from flirting mercilessly with James every chance he got? Hell no. James clearly liked being flirted with. He wouldn’t have followed Steve to the door after their date had concluded like a puppy dog if he didn’t like being flirted with. Poor thing looked far too disappointed when Steve had finally announced that he had to leave for the night and had hovered by the door for a beat too long when they were bidding their goodbyes to each other.

Well, Steve _had_ initiated the date to begin with; he was more than happy to go the distance for James’ happiness and bid him a proper goodbye. To wipe the look of disappointment from James’ face, Steve had bid him a fond farewell for the evening and pressed a gentle kiss to the Deacon’s knuckles, coyly winking up at him as he pressed that goodbye kiss into his skin. Clearly, that was the Golden ticket to capping off James’ first date, as the poor man had almost fainted on the spot from that simple touch. Such an innocent reaction to an innocent gesture; it really couldn’t have been a more perfect way to end his evening.

So, friends? Definitely. Friends that liked flirting with each other? Most likely. Honestly, it was the best of both worlds for Steve at this point, and as he had walked himself home to prepare for his work night, he had made a mental vow to cherish this unconventional friendship for as long as he possibly could.

_“Hellooo, earth to Steve!”_

Shaking himself back to the present, Steve glanced up at the boardwalk around them in mild confusion. It took him a few moments to realize exactly how long he’d been lost in his thoughts and he blushed, offering Natasha a sheepish smile. “Yeah, guess I _was_ a little preoccupied last night. Sorry about that. Next time I’ll definitely stop by though, I promise.”

Natasha stared at him, her eyes narrowed. Clearly, she caught on that Steve wasn’t being totally honest with her, and her gaze turned suspicious. “Uh huh… I see. Hopefully it wasn’t something dumb or I’m gonna have to be really pissed at you.”

Steve snorted, waving her off. “Relax, I didn’t do anything stupid. Just… it was a good night, that’s all I’ll say.”

With that, the conversation came to an end, and the two of them set off into the throng of entertainment seekers for their afternoon together. It was a fairly laid back affair; the two of them got lunch and enjoyed some warm street tacos as they watched the water shimmering in the distance. Children shrieked and laughed as they chased each other in whatever made-up games they loved playing. Gulls scavenged the beach for any food left behind. The sun was warm and comforting above them. No responsibilities looming ahead for him that evening. All in all, it was a lovely day that Steve was grateful he got to enjoy.

Of course, the lull of such an easy-going day didn’t last long. Just as Steve turned to toss the cardboard tray from his food into the trash, he felt the air shifting around them and the blur of a small child running beneath his arm caught him by surprise. He yelped as he jumped back from the child rushing past him and he looked up to see a little girl with pleated braids and a blue sweater dancing across the sidewalk without paying attention. “Hey watch where you’re going before you hurt yourself,” Steve said to the girl, frowning as she spun around to stick her tongue out at him. “Hey!”

“Amelia! Amelia, that is _very rude!_ ” a voice called from behind Steve. A very, _painfully_ familiar voice. Without even turning around, Steve knew exactly who was behind him, and he couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face like a firework in recognition. Well, it really was his lucky day wasn’t it?

“No friggin’ way- Preach?” Steve asked, turning on his heel with the biggest smile he could muster. Sure enough, Steve found James standing in front of him, scolding the little girl that had been so rude to Steve a moment ago. He was wearing his clerical black garb again, and reaching out with his hand to take the little girl’s and guide her to his side again. Just the mention of his chosen nickname caught James’ attention and he looked up, his apology for the girl’s rudeness dying on his lips.

“... Steve?” James exclaimed, his eyes rounding in shock as he looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Steve snorted, looking around the less-than-crowded sidewalk and shrugged. “Spending a day out? Didn’t feel like sleeping after work last night so I came out to enjoy the day,” he said beaming at him. He noted, with total satisfaction, as James’ cheeks flushed at the mention of “work” and he knew for a fact that James was seriously considering if the kids he was standing around knew what kind of work Steve did. How incredibly, naively cute of him.

Speaking of kids...

“Sooo, what’s up with the babysitting service?” Steve asked. As he looked away from James, he noticed with surprise that there were actually quite a few kids standing around him, and his brow lifted in curiosity. “And why are you in your priest clothes?”

James looked down at the kids and he smiled. “Oh. I’m on chaperone duty. Saint Anselm's had a field trip today for the 4th grade class. They won a school contest, and I volunteered to take the kids out for the day. Parochial school; I had to wear my own uniform this time.”

“Ah, I see,” Steve said. His eyes darted down to where James’ left hand was sitting on the little girl’s shoulder, and he noted the leather glove still on his hand. Just as it had been the night before and- well the first time Steve had seen James, for that matter. Odd that he didn’t seem to ever take it off. “You must really like that glove. S’kinda warm out to have it on, don’t you think?” he asked, looking up at James.

Of course, that’s when he realized he’d made a grave error. The minute the words left his mouth, Steve saw with growing horror as James’ expression darkened into a mask of hurt, and he found himself stumbling on his tongue to try and formulate an apology. Goddammit, he’d just promised James the _night before_ that he wouldn’t talk about his arm like it was a hindrance, and here he’d broken that rule just 12 hours later. _“You fucking asshole,”_ he cursed himself mentally, feeling his face turning beet red. “ _Some fuckin’ friend you turned out to be!”_

However, before Steve could really formulate some sort of coherent response, he was saved the trouble by little Amelia stepping in, herself. “Are you Reverend Barnes’ friend?” Amelia asked, her eyes big and wide as she stared up at Steve expectantly. She hadn’t moved an inch from James’ side, but her question commanded the entire situation, even drawing James’ eyes away from Steve for a brief moment.

Relieved for the change of subject, Steve looked down at her and smile. “Yeah, I am. I know James pretty well.” As he spoke, he looked up at James and offered him a small wink. “I guess you could kinda say I’m his ‘special’ friend,” he added, grinning at the girl.

He could practically feel James choke at that phrase, and he fought like hell not to look up at him and beam at him. Well, at least the tension had been broken for the time being. Good. Now he could properly apologize to James later for insulting him like that.

“Special friend? What’s that mean?” Amelia asked at that moment, looking up at James with wide eyes.

“N-nothing, Amelia. We’re just good friends, that’s all,” James stammered, looking up at Steve and giving him a withering look before turning away from him with finality. “We should probably get going. We have a few more activities to take care of before we head back to the school alright? Say goodbye to Steve, everyone.”

Steve watched James turn away from him, and the smile he wore on his face melted away to defeat. Dammit. James really had taken his accidental insult to heart now. No. No that wouldn’t do at all. Steve was not the kind of person to let someone continue to feel like shit because of something he did. No, he was going to make absolute sure that James knew he was really sorry for what he said, or Heaven help him.

“James! Reverend!’ Steve called. He followed after the throng of wiry kids, watching as James struggled to keep them all wrangled together in front of him like ducklings. When James heard his name called, he looked back at Steve, giving him a silent inquiry as to what he wanted. “Here. L-lemme help you. You look like you could use a second set of hands keeping an eye on the kids,” Steve offered, smiling at him. “After all, you kinda lost one of them in the crowd already.”

James didn’t speak for a moment; instead, he simply stared at Steve, his mouth open as if he stopped himself halfway through protesting Steve’s offer. Then his expression grew curious. After a brief moment, Steve saw the Deacon’s expression soften into a knowing smile, and he narrowed his eyes at him. That was the only look Steve needed to know that James understood his underlying apology at that moment, and he’d accepted it.

As he waited anxiously for James’ response, Steve realized the magnitude of this wordless exchange. Without even uttering a sound, the two of them had shared a deeper, more complex exchange than any other he’d experienced in his life. Without uttering a peep, James had spoken his disappointment in Steve, and understood exactly how poorly Steve felt about his actions. It was the freakiest thing Steve had ever experienced in his life, being this closely attuned to someone. No not just someone; _James_. He was more than certain he would never experience this level of connection between anyone else, and he’d only known the man for 2 weeks!

Maybe he really was screwed.

“Alright, Steve. I could use an extra set of eyes to keep watch over the kids today,” James finally said, his shoulders relaxing. However, as he did, his eyes darted behind Steve, and he paused, his smile fading away to a curious interest. “That is as long as that’s not interrupting your day out with your… friend?” he asked, looking up at Steve for clarification.

Well fuck. He’d completely forgotten about Natasha. Blushing heavily, he looked back to see her giving him a hard look, her arms crossed over her chest and he laughed sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. If it’s alright with her. Lemme ask.” When he received a nod from James, Steve turned back to Natasha, offering her a shamed look as he jogged back across the street towards her. “Nat, I’m sorry but-”

“Please don’t tell me that’s that priest you were telling me about,” Natasha growled, her eyes darting over to James for a moment before she leveled her glare on Steve again. “Steve, you can’t be serious!”

“I swear, it’s all platonic. I’d just be lending a helping hand, that’s all!” Steve protested, holding his hands up in an innocent gesture. “I’m not doing anything to him, I swear.”

“It doesn’t look like that. You’re right, Steve, he is young and really pretty. You _need_ to keep your hands off of him.” As she spoke, the wheels in her head began to turn and she looked up at Steve with wide eyes. “Oh my God, you saw him last night didn’t you?”

“I swear it was all innocent. I didn’t do anything to him.” Steve sighed. Granted, he left out the details of their “date”, but that was mostly for James’ sake. He had no idea what that might do to his confidence if he knew other people were privy to their flirting. Glancing back at the Deacon, Steve’s eyes lingering on him for a moment, and the wiggle of an affectionate smile began to show at the corners of his mouth. “I swear. I’m not doing anything with him, Nat.”

For a moment, she didn’t speak. Instead, her eyes remained locked on Steve’s profile, before she finally relaxed. Dropping her arms, she stuffed them into her pockets and turned away from him. “Steve, just be careful. I know that look. For the sake of everyone involved, just please keep it platonic.” Natasha turned to leave, but not before casting one last look at him. “Don’t break his heart.”

Steve listened, watching her depart the sidewalk and leave them both behind. A weight formed in the pit of his stomach at her words, and he swallowed thickly. Break his heart? Why the hell would she think he was going to do that to him? Even if he _did_ have any intentions on making a relationship with James, Steve knew that there was no way it would work out. The guy was going to be ordained in six months. In that case, the only person doing any heartbreaking would have been James, not himself. And why the hell did it sting to even think of that?!

‘ _You’re a fuckin’ mess, Rogers…’_

Ignoring the bubble of disappointment in his chest, Steve turned back towards the little throng of kids and plastered on a bright smile for James. No need to alert him to trouble, after all. “It’s all good. I’ll just make up an afternoon with her some other day,” he said, approaching James and sidling up to him.

“Oh good. That’s good to hear then,” James replied in a tone that Steve could only read as relieved. Clearing his throat, James straightened up and motioned for their little flock to look at him before ushering the kids back into some sort of order “Alright, let’s get going then!”

Steve nodded, falling into step besides James as they followed the little group of kids down the sidewalk. Amazing, how well they could actually behave in a crowd of people. Maybe James didn’t really need his help after all. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“We’re heading to Luna Park for some rides and games. We spent the morning at the museum, so getting them some fresh air was definitely on the list for today.”

“Very cool,” Steve commented, smirking down at James. “Just don’t take me on the Cyclone, or you’re gonna have one sick man to take care of.”

“You don’t like rollercoasters?” James asked, casting him a concerned look.

Steve laughed. “No it’s not that I don’t like rollercoasters. I actually like them quite fine. But for some reason the Cyclone always makes me sick. Plus I just had some tacos, so that doesn’t mix very well, I guess.”

“Duly noted,” James chuckled.

The two of them fell silent as they walked the kids towards the park. Every so often, Steve found himself magnetizing over towards James’ side, where he bumped into his right arm companionably. To his delight, James returned the gesture in kind, peeking out of the corner of his eye to smile at Steve in return. As their little gaggle approached the entrance to the park, Steve felt a little more comfortable as the sound of rides and shouting could easily mask his voice from the kids. Again, he wasn’t too sure James would be comfortable talking about this in front of them; so he leaned in, bumping James’ shoulder one more time before speaking.

“So,” Steve muttered, looking side-eye at James. “I’m so sorry about what I said earlier. It’s not my business to go butting in like that and I shouldn’t have insulted you like that. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright, Steve,” James murmured. He kicked a pebble out of the way, making the hem of his cassock billow out in front of him before the black cloth fell to his side again. “I understand you weren’t trying to be insulting. I just have my reasons for wearing the glove, and I’d like to keep them my reasons if you don’t mind.”

“I get it,” Steve replied, giving him an apologetic look. “I really do feel bad and I won’t say anything again.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” James said, giving Steve a stern look before his expression cracked into an amused smile. “With that in mind, we should hurry up before the kids get antsy. I’ve already got the tickets so just keep an eye on them for me while I get us into the park.”

“I have an idea. You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to,” Steve said. When James nodded for him to continue, Steve held his cell phone up and smiled. “Why don’t we swap numbers, just in case you and I get separated? I have a feeling we’ll have to kinda keep one of us at each end of the group if they’re gonna start getting squirrely on you, since this place is busier than the boardwalk.”

“Not a bad idea, actually.” James reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, opening up the screen as he looked up at him. “Thanks for that idea. And really, thank you for the help. I think the museum was a bad idea to start with, they’ve been hyper ever since we left.”

Steve laughed, taking James’ phone and punching in his number. “No sweat. S’what I’m here for, to be as helpful to someone’s needs as I can be.”

“I feel like that’s something you’ve said to your, ehm, customers. Isn’t it?”

Steve winked at James, handing him his own phone in return. “You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you?”

“Well, with your help,’ James muttered, bumping his elbow into Steve’s before offering him an innocent look. “I think I’m becoming far more educated, thanks to you.”

Steve watched James take his place at the front of the little throng; instantly, all the spit in his mouth dried up at that seemingly innocent statement, and his eyes blew wide in realization. James flirted with him. Initiated the flirt and everything. And with the way he was staring back at him, his blue eyes shining with the growing embers of mischief, Steve knew he was definitely more than screwed; he was royally fucked.

This crush was going to be the death of him and he was going straight to Hell. Totally worth it.

* * *

 

**SR [7:23pm] Hey, James, hope it’s alright if I texted you. Just wanted to check and make sure everything went well after I dropped you guys back off at the school. Today turned out to be a great day. Thanks for letting me join you**

Sighing to himself, Steve dropped his cell phone to his stomach where it lay silent, and he pressed his head to the pillow beneath him in exhausted relief. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, fighting the urge to just roll over and go to sleep at that very moment. God, he was absolutely exhausted now, and in serious need of some sleep. But as much as he wanted to just pass out right there, he didn’t want to fall asleep until he was absolutely certain that James got his text message and at least sent him a response that all was well.

His text message had been a blatant understatement. ‘Great’ was not the word Steve wanted to use to describe their afternoon out. Phenomenal, amazing, eye opening. Those were all perfect words to describe that warm afternoon. Not that Steve really had much to do with it. James had been the star of the show, and it was with deep regret, that Steve realized he was in way over his head befriending him after all.

Shortly after the two of them had taken the kids to the amusement park, Steve grew absolutely infatuated with James as he watched him interacting with the kids the whole afternoon. The term “fatherly” came to mind when he thought back to how sweetly James treated each and every child they were watching over. Like the moment James tended to a little girl’s knee when she fell and scraped it on the rough ground below. Or the moment he graciously used one of his own dollars to win a young boy a stuffed animal at the goblet toss game after the little boy lost his credits and cried over it.

Or the moment James held Amelia’s hand as she cowered into his leg, too scared to go on the Ferris wheel and promised her that she didn’t have to go on the ride if she didn’t want to. Even the moment Steve watched James holding grace over dinner as each child waited anxiously to chow down on amusement park food, and treated each child fairly and with total respect and how happily each child respected him back and listened to him eagerly.

Each moment that passed that afternoon only further cemented the admiration Steve felt towards James in his mind, and he found himself totally and irrevocably drawn towards him in a way he hadn’t felt towards another person in a very long time.

“It’s just a crush,” Steve told himself, glaring at the ceiling as he tightened his fingers around the hem of the pillow beneath his head. “Just a crush. He’s your friend, that’s it. You’re lucky he even wants to be your friend, shithead.” Growling in frustration, Steve turned and buried his face in the pillow, fighting off another yawn as he stared at his silent phone for a moment longer. He’d give James another five minutes to answer him. If he didn’t, well, he’d just answer whatever text he got from James when he woke up.

Of course, at that precise moment, Steve’s phone buzzed to life on the comforter of the bed, flashing James’ name across the screen. A single text message sat waiting for Steve, and he snatched up his phone in record time, opening the message and skimming it quickly.

**JB [7:33pm] Do you mind if I call you? I don’t want to if you’re trying to sleep.**

That was it. No thank you message, no comments about the day. Just asking if he could call him and talk one on one. That could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing, and the anxiety of the possibilities formed a knot in Steve’s stomach. What did James want to talk about? They’d had a good day! Steve hadn’t done anything inappropriate or cracked any adult jokes. The kids seemed to like him well enough.

Maybe James wasn’t feeling too charitable towards Steve after all. Maybe he was still upset about his earlier slip-up and maybe this was him telling Steve that their date was a bad idea and that he should delete his number.

Thank God, Steve didn’t have any clients that night. He never liked working when he was feeling anxious.

**SR [7:35pm] No it’s cool you can call me. I’m awake :)**

Steve stared at his text message the minute he sent it, wondering if it was overkill adding the smiley face to it. After a moment, he put his phone down again, pushing the worry aside for the moment. Eh, it was just a text message. People sent smiley faces all the time; it wasn’t like he was being overly worried about trying to salvage his newly formed friendship with James or anything like that.

Besides, the text was already sent, so it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Crap.

Before he could chastise himself further for being ridiculous, Steve felt his phone buzzing to life again, and he looked down to see James’ call coming through finally. Smiling broadly, he picked up the phone and swiped to answer, holding his breath as he waited to hear what James had to say to him. “Hello, good lookin’, was wondering when you’d call me back,” he chuckled, hoping that the amusement in his voice masked his anxiety.

 _“Heh, sorry I would have just called you back but I wasn’t sure if you had to sleep for work tonight,”_ James replied, his voice crystal clear in Steve’s ear as he spoke.

Just those few words put Steve’s worries to rest for good, and he smiled hugely, slumping back against the pillow with a sigh. “You don’t have to ever worry about waking me up, you know. I always have my phone on me for business purposes, so my friends have 24 hour access to me whenever they want. Besides, sleep is for the weak.”

James chuckled. “ _Well good to know then, in case I ever have to call you for something.”_

“So what, does this mean you’re not deleting my number from your phone?” Steve asked, grinning up at the ceiling. He propped his free hand behind his head, cradling the pillow as he listened to James’ voice lilting over the little speaker. Yeah okay, maybe he was fishing a little bit. He really didn’t have much shame to give as it was; might as well put his concerns to rest for good and get it over with.

“ _I actually had no intentions on doing that, believe me or not.”_ James replied, sounding sincere.

“Why’s that?”

There was a pause on the line for a moment. That pause was followed shortly by an incoherent sound Steve could only imagine was an embarrassed whimper. _“Because I very much- I very much enjoy speaking with you and hope that…”_

Steve listened, his heart racing to life in his chest. “Hope that what?”

James paused again, inhaling audibly from his side of the phone. _“Hope that we could-”_ he paused. _“We could repeat what we did last night, sometime soon…”_

Steve exhaled, his thoughts confirmed by that statement. So James really _was_ attempting to flirt with him earlier that day. Glorious. Fucking glorious. “You know I’d love to do that again. It was fun. You’re quite the little cuddle bug aren’t you?” he asked, tempering his eagerness with a teasing tone. Steve sincerely prayed he didn’t sound too hopeful on the phone; the last thing he wanted was to scare off James right as he was starting to break out of his shell and voice his wants to him.

He knew he was dancing close to the flames now; Natasha had warned him to keep things platonic with James, but the more he spoke with him, and the more he realized James liked him in return, Steve knew there was no easy way to break this budding partnership off with him. He didn’t want to, nor did he think he was physically capable of doing so.

Even now, just hearing James’ voice soothed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated; the more he focused on his friend’s words, the faster the butterflies in his stomach fluttered to life, making him smile like a fucking idiot. His earlier delight at being around James that day was nothing compared to the intimate contact of just the two of them, talking on the phone so casually, and pouring their intentions out to each other. There were no hands to touch, no sides to curl into. Not even the distracting scent of deodorant or clean skin to fog up Steve’s mind.

This right here was raw communication, and he realized with sudden clarity that this felt far more intimate to him than any sexual encounter Steve had experienced in his life. _‘Hell,’_ he thought to himself for a brief, hysterical moment, _‘I hope to God he doesn’t start reciting the fuckin’ rosary on here, or I might blow my load…’_

From the other end of the line, James’ voice broke into an audible shudder and he sighed. “ _Was it- I mean, was I too much? I didn’t know if- I wanted to… what I meant was-”_

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Steve chuckled. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. That was your night, James. Not mine. You could have asked me to rub your back or sing you a sonnet or whatever, and I would have gladly done it. You wanted to cuddle, so we did. I’m more than okay with that. I just didn’t want to do anything you didn’t like you know? So from now on, you tell me what you want to do and I’ll do it for you, okay?”

James didn’t speak for a moment, though Steve could sense the tension had dissipated finally. He could practically hear the smile in his voice when he finally spoke up again. _“Bucky.”_

Steve paused, looking at his phone for a moment. “What?”

“ _That’s my nickname. Or it was when I was a kid. Now only the closest people I know call me that.”_ James waited, sounding uncertain for a moment. “ _I want you to call me that… if you don’t feel stupid using that name.”_

Steve took in his request, feeling lighter than air. He thought his face might crack in two with his smile, and he laughed, outright and cheerful. James had trusted him with his private nickname. James wanted him in. This was the best night of his life. “I love it. You bet your ass I’ll use that name. That’s… Seriously, I love it.” Steve fell quiet, turning over onto his side to beam brightly at the far wall. “Thank you, Bucky. Thank you for letting me in.”

 _“I should be thanking you,”_ James breathed, relaxed at Steve’s open acceptance of the moniker. “ _I mean it, for earlier today. Thank you for helping me keep an eye on the children. And thank you for last night. I don’t think I properly showed you my gratitude for the date.”_

“It was my genuine pleasure,” Steve mused. He fiddled with a string on the hem of his pillowcase and he closed his eyes, remembering their afternoon clearly. “I think I had more fun than the kids, watching you guys all day. You’re so good with them and they all loved you. I think you’re gonna make one hell of a priest someday soon.”

James didn’t answer him right away. For the longest moment, there was silence on the line, so long that Steve actually thought they disconnected. “ _Someday soon, yes. B-but, I… I’m just grateful for the chance to know what it’s like to go on a date. So thank you for that.”_

Steve listened, his smile softening. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

Another beat of silence formed between them. “ _I should probably hang up,”_ James muttered at that moment. “ _You probably need to get some sleep. I’m sorry I’ve kept you awake.”_

“You didn’t keep me awake,” Steve offered. “But I definitely could do with at least a couple hours of shut-eye.”

_“Understandable. Sleep well, and I’ll see you later, Steve?”_

Steve felt a jerk of giddiness at that question and he nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll see you later, Bucky.”

At the use of his nickname, James hesitated, before uttering a small, grateful sound. He murmured a final parting wish, and with that the call came to an end. Once the two of them had hung up, Steve stared at his phone for a long moment, feeling absolutely enthralled by the direction of their conversation. James wanted to spend more time with him. James wanted to go on another date with Steve. This was a damn dream come true.

Yeah this was no longer a crush; this had crumbled into a super-mega-I’m-going-to-hell-first-class crush with a capital C. He hadn’t felt his heart pattering away to the sound of someone’s voice like this in years. Fuck, even his already over-sensitive libido was intrigued by the presence of this innocent, naive man that had caught his attention so fiercely. Two weeks ago, Steve wanted to corrupt a priest for the sake of conquest. Now, Steve wanted nothing more than to pamper and admire this perfect human being for as long as he possibly could, while he still could. After all, James deserved nothing less.

Steve wasn’t allowed to be with anyone; he’d never had luck with relationships in the past and he never would in the future. But if he were allowed to have one, fleeting moment in time where he could tumble head first in love with someone and cherish those brief moments for the rest of his life, then Steve knew he’d hit the jackpot with James.

Why the hell did he have to be a priest…?

* * *

 

It was approximately one week since their day out at Coney Island, and James found himself more often than not, checking his cell phone for messages or calls than he ever used to previously. Every time he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, James snatched up the device with excitement, eagerly tapping away at the screen to reply to Steve’s text messages with enthusiasm. Sure, they usually consisted of slightly dirty jokes or tongue-in-cheek humor, but James loved them all the same.

He couldn’t believe it had only been three short weeks since he’d first met Steve that cold, Thursday in March. He never expected to even become acquaintances with Steve, let alone friends with him after he’d given him his coat to wear. But there they were, three weeks later, and their friendship was only growing stronger by the day. Naturally, James expected that Steve would take their friendship on a more flirtatious basis; after all, he made a living making other people feel good. Why shouldn’t he reflect that same behavior towards James? James would have slapped Steve silly if he felt the need to handle him with kid-gloves just because he was a clergy-man.

There was just one small problem with that: James fully expected Steve to flirt with him. He hadn’t expected to like those flirtations so damn much. He hadn’t expected on finding himself disappointed if he didn’t get a good-night text from Steve, or maybe went a whole couple hours without hearing from him. He also hadn’t expected to find himself thinking of Steve’s clients and wondering how lucky they were that they got to spend so much intimate time with Steve, when he could only spend a few fleeting hours with him. They hadn’t even set up their “second date” yet.

He hadn’t expected to find himself wishing that things had worked out a little different in his life and that he might have met Steve under different circumstances, in different career paths.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty. Far from it; James felt _horrendously_ guilty for his thoughts and actions, and constantly berated himself for falling from his righteous pedestal so quickly. He prayed every night for that entire week that he would wake up and realize that what he was doing was _wrong_ and that his earthly desires were beginning to overpower the path he’d set himself on. He prayed that he’d get a sign from above that told him to let Steve go, push him away and amend for his sins before his ordination day arrived.

But every morning came after his prayers, and he only woke up more eager to find a sweet text from Steve, or a picture of his smile to rouse him for the day. And every morning, James would find himself without that sign from God to let Steve go, leaving him further cemented in the desires for this stupid, beautiful man that had taken over his life in less than a month.

Realizing that there would be no answer to his pleas, James gave up. He gave up trying to find a clear cut answer to his actions. He couldn’t explain why he couldn’t get Steve out of his mind, but he knew for a fact that there was no possible way he was relinquishing him from his very being anytime soon. Damn him, but he couldn’t shake how much he’d grown dependent on Steve’s wit and humor, nor could he ignore just how beautiful Steve truly was. He remembered his father had described his mother as an exquisite firework in this world, with her banter and smile and fiery personality. Now, James understood why his father had chosen that nickname for the love of his life.

It was with that realization that James knew he was in this with his feelings for the long haul. Logically, he knew he’d have to say goodbye to Steve when his ordination happened, and as much as he knew that was going to hurt, it was a hard logic he knew he couldn’t skirt around. Feelings and fleeting affairs be damned, he would have to leave and do as his calling intended him to do for the rest of his life, horribly chaste of romantic feelings until the day he died.

Well… that was six months away. He might as well just enjoy Steve’s friendship and his own, terribly one-sided feelings for the blond while he had the chance.

Saturday evening came at last, and with a tired huff, James ascended his stairs and took a final puff of his cigarette, stamping out the butt on his step before he let himself into his brownstone with a jingle of keys. “Grande Allegro…   _A jete_. Pirouettes… I’m getting too old for this…” he grumbled to himself in exhaustion. Sweat had dried to his temples, leaving little strands of hair stuck to his forehead, despite the cool chill of evening air, and his duffel bag sat precariously perched on the stump of his left shoulder as he let himself into his house. It was time for a long shower, some evening tea and a good book to relax himself before his early morning mass the next day. That was a good plan.

However, when James finally locked himself into his home for the evening and turned to enter his house, the atmosphere around him gave him pause. Looking up into the living room, James couldn’t shake the odd sensation that something was off. Almost like he was being watched, in fact.

Swallowing heavily, James felt his skin prickling with gooseflesh as he became totally hyper-aware of his surroundings in an attempt to pinpoint the danger presented to him. He cast a look down to the side table and noticed with a heavy frown that the whole table had been shifted to the right, butted right up against the wall. The bowl where he kept his spare change had also been moved, the coins making the little bowl tilt to the side in its holder. And when James looked away from the table, he noted with a gut-wrenching realization that there was a pair of shoes he didn’t recognize, sitting next to the sofa on the floor.

Yes, someone had been in his apartment. In fact… someone was still there.

Instantly, James’ memories flickered back to three weeks prior, and the screaming man that had been standing on his front stoop. The man had scurried off quick enough with James’ presence, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be angry enough to hold a grudge. And if he felt that Steve was hiding out in this building, he might have gotten bold and come back to look for him. It was the only thing that made sense really; James had lived in Brooklyn for almost ten years and never once suffered a breaking and entering. But three weeks after facing down the pissed-off client of a sticky-fingered sex worker (No insult to Steve, honestly), it made sense that that man would come back to finish off the beat down he owed him.

Heart hammering in his chest, James tightened his fist at his side, wishing he had his prosthetic on at that moment. It wasn’t like it was a good weapon, but at least he’d feel a little more in-balance if he had to defend himself against someone twice his size with it on. He hated the idea of violence but if push came to shove, then by God was James going to shove right back if he had to.

With his resolve firmly intact, James began to survey the inside his home, slowly prowling the rooms to look for anything else out of the ordinary. So far, as he passed the kitchen, the bathroom and headed down the hallway to check on his office, James found nothing of interest. After a few tense minutes, James felt his shoulders finally loosening up as he came up empty-handed on his search. Maybe he’d overreacted. Maybe he’d forgotten about some old shoes under his sofa and had accidentally bumped them the last time he swept under the furniture. Or maybe he’d knocked into his own side table without realizing it on his way to rehearsal. All possible explanations, really.

But just as James began to relax, convinced that he’d just imagined the whole thing after all, the atmosphere behind his back grew tenfold the minute he’d stepped back into the living room. The hair on the back of his neck stood up instantly at the feeling of someone much larger than him standing behind him, and before he even had a chance to inhale, a hand clapped over his eyes followed by a shout of “Gotcha!”

What followed was a subsequence clutter of chaos, in approximately this order:

_“AAAIIEE!!!”_

_“WHAT THE FU-!”_

**_CRASH, BOOM, SHATTER!!!!!!_ **

The minute a hand clapped down over his eyes, James flat-out panicked, screaming at the top of his lungs. Without warning, he snatched at the hand over his eyes, slamming his foot down onto the instep of the person behind him. With a titanic effort, James instantly bent forward, dragging the body behind him over his shoulder and flipping him onto the floor with a thunderous boom. James had flipped the figure behind him so hard he heard, rather than saw, the man’s feet slam into the coffee table in front of them both, knocking over the furniture and sending the ceramic coasters sitting on it crashing to the floor where they exploded in a shatter of tiny pieces and dust.

But James was not done there. Without waiting, he instantly twisted, burying his knee into the man’s chest and pinning him to the floor; but just before he reeled his fist back to knock a few teeth loose, his eyes landed on the figure’s face and he froze, panting heavily as he stared down at a stunned and winded Steve laying on his back beneath him, looking far more confused than pained by the attack delivered unto him.

“Steve?!” James gasped, loosening his fist as he clambered off of him quickly. “What the-! Why..! How the _hell_ did you get into my house!?”

“Holy shit- Jesus!’ Steve gasped, staring up at James with wide eyes. He groaned, twisting his arm beneath himself to rub at his sore back, before his eyes darted over the Deacon’s sweaty, trembling figure with awe. His cursing came to an abrupt halt at that gesture, and James could see the moment it registered in Steve’s mind that James indeed, was missing an arm and had still managed to lay him out flat on his back. After an awkward, extended silence, Steve tore his gaze away from his empty sleeve, and met James’ gaze again, slack-jawed for the briefest moment. “Christ, nice arm you got there. Holy fuck, where the hell did you learn to do that?”

‘ _Nice arm…’_ Such a simple, unassuming statement that held so much hurtful meaning behind it. James stared down at his dazed friend with hurt blooming in his chest before he ripped his gaze away from Steve to stare at the floor for a moment. James had met people who’d made crude or impolite statements about his handicap to him, but none of them had ever said something so blunt to him before. At least others had been tactful enough to try and be delicate around James for his misfortune. Steve had been the last person he’d ever expected to hurt him like this, but there he was, plain as day. ‘Nice arm.’ What a fool James had been to trust Steve, if that was the way he was going to talk about his disability to his face.

Uttering a pained sound, James scrambled to his feet in a hurry, tugging the sleeve of his t-shirt down over the stump of his shoulder; blinded by his wounded pride, he barely looked at Steve as he tried to hide the redness beginning to burn in his eyes. Forget him. He had nothing else to say to him at that moment…

“Get out.”

Steve got up instantly despite his sore back, looking at James with worry flooding his blue eyes. Clearly, he’d noticed the wetness at the corner of James’ eyes at that moment, and he shook his head, reaching out to touch his good shoulder and grab his attention again. “What, what did I say? Bucky-”

“I said _get out!_ ” James shouted, throwing Steve’s hand away from him. “Get out of my house right now, Steve!” When he could feel Steve hesitate at his demand, James shot a glare in his direction and grabbed him by the arm, dragging Steve towards the door. He didn’t once look up at him as he pushed him towards the door; goodwill and kindness to all men be damned, he was just too _hurt_ by what Steve said to even think what his vocation required him to behave like. _‘I thought he cared about me. I thought he was different.’_ he thought to himself in sorrow, feeling the little bubble of hope he’d built up in his chest towards his relationship with Steve shattering right then and there. Leave it to James to find someone he could give his affections to, only to find the guy had absolutely no regard for his baggage after all. No wonder, he wasn’t meant to be with anyone.

But before James could shove him out of his house for good and lock the door again, Steve suddenly dug his heels in, pulling out of James’ grip so suddenly, it caused James to look up at him in surprise.

“Whoa, slow your roll, Preach,” Steve protested, looking down at him with wide eyes. “What the hell, why are you pissed at me?”

James stared up at Steve, feeling totally gob smacked by that question. He scoffed openly, feeling his sorrow instantly bubbling up into rage at his question. “Are you serious? You don’t _know_ why I’m mad at you?!” When Steve shook his head, James couldn’t help the derisive laugh that left him. “First of all you broke into my house and ambushed me _._ I should be calling the police on you, not throwing you out. And secondly, you mocked my arm, or _lack thereof,_ to my face! How am I _not_ supposed to take that poorly?” James exclaimed, throwing his good arm out in exasperation. “Now is it clicking for you, Steve, or should I explain further?!”

It took Steve all of about two seconds to realize what James was saying; it was with no little satisfaction when James saw the look of horror crossing Steve’s face at his realization, followed by the spluttering of trying to salvage his dignity and James’ hurt feelings.

“Oh Jesus n-no I didn’t mean it like that. Christ, Bucky I’m so sorry I meant- I meant with the way you threw me that was… that’s not what I was trying to say!” Steve paused, shaking his head as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair with apology clear on his face. “Please believe me. I didn’t mean that I was insulting your arm, I swear to God, that wasn’t my intention.” Looking James dead in the eye, Steve offered him his most plaintive look he could muster, tentatively reaching out for his side before dropping his hand again. “I’m so, so, unbelievably sorry...”

Whatever anger or satisfaction James found in Steve’s presence was gone in an instant at that apology. Looking down at the floor, James’ shoulders slumped a little and he felt that crushing weight of depression seeping into him once again. It had taken him years to come to terms with his missing arm and to get over the guilt of outliving his whole family. Now, the one person he thought he could trust had just found out his biggest secret, and all of that progress had been shattered in the blink of an eye, leaving him raw and vulnerable all over again. God saving him or not, he was never going to escape this “survivor’s” stigma as long as he lived. It just wasn’t fair!

“So,” he murmured, gesturing weakly at the empty space at his left side. “What do you think of me now, Steve? Repulsive? Defective? Embarrassing? Any number of adjective would do I suppose,” he said, feeling his chest constricting tightly until he could barely breathe. James didn’t look up at him again, waiting to hear whatever he had to say. Now that Steve- perfect, shapely, strong and beautiful that he was- had seen him at his most susceptible and unsightly… well, what would he think of him now? There was no way Steve still found him attractive anymore. No one ever did; all they saw was ‘Priest. Broken. Imperfect. Steer clear at all costs.’  

Steve didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, he stood in front of James, staring at him for the longest moment. Suddenly, James saw Steve’s arm lift and he blinked, glancing over to see his fingers playing with the hem of the empty sleeve, pushing the cloth back from his shoulder. James inhaled sharply when the stump was exposed to cool air; years later, the scar was still painfully visible, the raised skin white and silvery against the olive tones of his flesh, and the flesh itself, lumpy and ragged looking. He flexed his shoulder a bit, watching as the muscle bunched under the scarred skin, trying quietly to flinch away from extended fingers as if they would burn him.

Neither of them moved for a second, frozen in time at this tense, pivotal moment between them. Then, the spell was broken. Without a word, Steve gently placed his palm over James’ shoulder, tenderly cupping the stub before he pulled the Deacon into his arms, hugging him warmly to his chest.

“What are you talking about…?” Steve breathed. Tilting his head, he pressed his cheek to the side of James’ head, hugging him close and comforting before he ran his thumb over the scar on his shoulder, unafraid of its presence like most were. “This doesn’t change anything, Bucky.”

James was stunned; no one had ever reacted like this to him, not when they saw him for the damaged, timid creature that he was. No one ever hugged him when they realized the depths of which he’d suffered in his past. No one had been there for him. But Steve was here now, and promising him something he didn’t entirely understand. “What do you mean?” James asked, barely above a whisper. He looked up at Steve, his eyes wide as a wiggle of hope wormed its way back into his chest. Was he saying what he thought he meant? “Steve…?”

Steve chuckled; it wasn’t the laugh of someone mocking or belittling anyone. It was a laugh of relief and contentment. Steve’s fingers tightened on James’ shoulder for a moment before pulling him closer. His free arm dropped from his upper back, down to around James’ waist, hugging him tightly for a brief moment. “Want me to spell it out for ya? This doesn’t change what I think about you. You’re still the most attractive guy I’ve ever met in my life. You’re still the most amazing person I’ve ever had the luck of knowing. I dunno what other people have ever said to you to make you think so little of yourself, but whatever it is, it’s bullshit. Your disability doesn’t make you weak; I think it makes you even more special. I couldn’t live without an arm. I know a shit load of people that couldn’t do it. But you do, and you live real damn well.”

Steve leaned back at that moment, winking down at James knowingly. “Lemme put it simply: I don’t think you’re any less pretty or less kick-ass because of your handicap, and if anyone else says otherwise, I’ll kick their ass.”

James stared up at Steve, feeling the corners of his eyes burning again. A watery laugh escaped him suddenly, and he pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder for a moment to collect himself He could feel tears running down his cheeks at that declaration, but the laughter that left him was genuine and real. He believed Steve. How could he have ever doubted him? “You’re impossible, you know that?” James chuckled, wiping the back of his hand along his cheek before pressing his palm to the small of Steve’s back in a return hug.

Steve just shook his head, letting the moment linger between them; they didn’t separate from their hug, which James was grateful for. He didn’t quite think he was ready to let Steve see him in his glory, tearing up and snuffling like a child into his (probably expensive) t-shirt and clinging to him like a lifeline. He was in no hurry to move, and it seemed that Steve felt the exact same way.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the moment passed and the two men finally separated. But it seemed Steve had one more thing to say on the matter, and he reached out, gently tilting James’ chin up to meet his gaze. “I may be good at sugar-coating it for people, but I’m not lying to you. This really doesn’t change how I feel about you. Just so you know.”

“I believe you,” James finally admitted, rubbing his knuckles over his cheeks to dry the last of his tears away. He offered him a weak smile in return, before he glanced down at the floor. Then, he finally saw the broken coasters on the floor, and the overturned table, and remembered exactly what he’d done to Steve just a few minutes ago. Clearing his throat in embarrassment, he looked up at his friend and flushed red. “So… how’s your back?” he asked, in a non-too-innocent inquiry.

Steve blinked for a second before he snorted. “Sore. Like… damn, son, you really can throw a guy with your kung-Fu there. Seriously, where did you learn how to do that?”

James shrugged, looking down at his shoes in embarrassment. “Uhm, when I… was rehabilitated, I had some fear issues. I took a self-defense class after I was healed enough to do so, and picked up a few tricks here and there. Mostly because- well, you know some people might think trying to mug a one-armed guy might be easier than someone with both limbs attached, right?”

“No, that makes total sense. Have you ever had to use it on anyone?”

James shrugged again. “Ehh… just once. On you.” He replied, flashing him a friendlier smile. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for breaking into my house.”

“Damn,” Steve chuckled, snapping his fingers in mock-dismay. “I thought the ass-kicking was enough punishment for that crime.”

James laughed, feeling much better than he had a few moments prior. “Well, how about this. You pick up the table and clean this mess up while I make you a cup of tea, and we’ll call it even. Fair?”

“More than fair. I’ll accept that offer, Preach.”

James laughed and left Steve to his task before turning to the kitchen, where he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and set the kettle on the stove to heat up water. He plucked out two lavender tea-bags from the canister and set them in the mugs before grabbing his trusty bottle of honey and setting it to the side. As he finished prepping their drinks, he heard Steve enter the kitchen again, holding the dustpan of broken ceramic coasters, and dumping the mess down the garbage bag. He really liked those coasters… oh well.

“So, Steve,” James mused, stuffing his hand into his sweatpants pocket. “You never told me. Why did you break into my house anyway? _How_ did you get into my house? The door was still locked and the windows weren’t broken or open,” he asked, leaning his hip against the counter as he waited for Steve’s answer.

That seemed to spark something in Steve’s memory and he smiled. “Oh right!” Without waiting, Steve left the kitchen, only to return a few moments later, holding James’ jacket up. “You left your jacket at the bookstore last week. I found it earlier this evening when I was closing up shop.”

James looked at the jacket in Steve’s hands and he burst into a laugh. “I was wondering where that went. But that doesn’t explain _how_ you got in,” he said, turning to shut off the kettle when it began whistling and poured the water.

Steve shrugged, draping the coat over the back of the chair next to him before taking the offered cup of tea from James. “I learned how to do it in Nazi Germany, right where I found your coat.” He took a sip of tea and winked at James. “But no, seriously, I’m just really good at breaking into places. We’ll just leave it at that.”

“That’s not a very comforting thought, you know.” James commented, giving him a knowing look as he sipped his own tea with a raised eyebrow.

“Eh, comes in handy sometimes.”

“I see. I won’t ask how or why,” James replied, waving his cup in a dismissive gesture before grinning. “But I guess since I like you somewhat, I won’t call the cops on you this time. You’re off the hook for now.”

“Oh thank God,” Steve rolled his eyes to the ceiling before snorting in laughter. “I’m so pleased to know you’re not gonna turn me over to the fuzz.”

The two of them fell into comfortable silence then, sipping tea and decompressing from the harrowing hour they’d spent. Even now, James could still feel the phantom touch of Steve’s hand on his shoulder and he fought the urge to reach up and touch it, feeling exactly where Steve’s large palm had encompassed the side of his stump in a warm and gentle touch. A shiver coursed through his figure at the thought and he lowered his gaze to the floor, avoiding Steve’s eyes for the time being. He could feel a warmth pooling in his stomach that didn’t come from the tea, as he thought of Steve’s gentle words and promises and he knew that he had meant every word of it. It was just one more reason why James knew he was irreparably tied to this man in his life.

Lost in his thoughts, James only looked up when he heard Steve’s throat clear from the other side of the room, and he gave him a questioning look.

“So, I’ve only ever seen you with your prosthetic on,” Steve prompted, gesturing to his side.

“Prosthesis,” James corrected, before nodding at him. “Yes. I really couldn’t do half the things I do without it.’

“I can tell. I honestly had no idea you didn’t have an arm. It moves just like a real one.”

James agreed, looking to the bathroom door. He probably really should put it on, but he didn’t feel like wrestling it on and then having to take it off just to take a shower anyway. “It’s one of the latest tech out there for amputees. I wear a harness to keep it on, but the arm moves on its own; it goes over the stump like a cup, and sensors inside it read my muscle movements, and then activate whatever function I’m telling it to do. I don’t even have to consciously think of the action. Just… bend over to tie my shoes, and it moves on its own for instance. The only part that doesn’t function well is the thumb. They’re still working on making it more opposable.”

“That’s so cool. Like robotics of the future,” Steve breathed, staring at James with all the awe in the world. “So if the arm is so helpful to you, why weren’t you wearing it now?”

“Well-” James murmured, looking down at the floor. Oh boy. This was the part James wasn’t sure if he was comfortable talking about. Not only did he get looks from people when they found out he was an amputee, but he hated the looks he got from others when they found out he danced, almost as much. A male amputee, 35 years old, dancing ballet, was generally thought of as embarrassing by the masses. He wasn’t entirely Steve wouldn’t find it embarrassing either...

Then again, Steve had been the only person to take the news of his amputation so easily; maybe James really did owe him the truth after all. “I take lessons at the local dance studio. I don’t wear it when I go to rehearsal because it’s too heavy and throws off my balance. I tried practicing with it a few times and it failed terribly. I kept falling over and stuff.” With his secret finally revealed to Steve, James closed his eyes, holding his breath as he waited for the inevitable laugh to come.

It never came. Instead, silence fell between them for a moment, and James cracked an eye open to look up at Steve and see why it was he hadn’t burst into hysterics yet at his deep, dark secret.

But that was not his reaction at all. Instead, Steve stared at James from across the kitchen, a smile big and bright on his lips. It wasn’t a mocking smile; rather, it was the smile of someone who was totally in awe of James for what he did. Steve wasn’t amused or found it funny. Steve was _proud._

“Whoa. That’s awesome. You seriously dance?!” Steve asked, sounding far more excited than ever. “That is totally awesome. I wish I knew how to dance. I mean really dance; not that bump and grind stuff people do in clubs.” He explained, waving his hand in excitement as he spoke.

James had never been more relieved in his life. He leaned back against the counter, offering Steve an uncertain smile as he listened to him rave about his hidden talent. “You really mean that? I mean- well, most people think it's silly or something-”

“Hold the phone, who thinks it's silly?” Steve asked, sounding a little defensive at that notion. “Whoever told you dancing is stupid, should be punched in the head. Dancing is amazing! I totally envy everyone that can do that. How long have you been dancing for? What kind do you do? Can you show me?!”

“Hey, slow down and take a breath!” James chuckled, holding his hand up to him. “I get why people think it’s a stupid hobby, but I love it myself so I don’t let it get to me, don’t worry. I’ve been dancing for about 10 years. I picked it up after my accident as an extra-curricular. It really helped with my stress a lot. And as for what style I practice, I dance ballet.”

“Oh shit,” Steve laughed, smiling at him from his vantage point across the room. “Please show me something. This I gotta see for myself.”

James chuckled, though he glanced about his kitchen for a moment before speaking. “It’s kinda small in here. I couldn’t show you much, I’m sorry.” At the disappointed look he got, James frowned. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to appease him at least. After all, no one had ever been as excited about this as Steve. “Here, move the chair,” he ordered, putting his teacup down on the counter.

When Steve did as he was told and moved the chair away from the table, James abandoned the counter, taking his place in the center of the room. He kicked off his shoes, leaving him in just his socks, and carefully hiked up his sweatpants so that the bottoms of his pants weren’t catching on his heels. Offering Steve a small smile, James carefully took third position his feet just slightly crossed one in front of the other, and his arm curved out to the side. Closing his eyes, James focused on the moment, feeling his muscles coiling as he prepared to take his next position.

On the exhale, James bent his legs slightly before springing into the air, straight up, and spun, clicking his heels just a touch. When he landed, facing the other way, he swept his front foot around in a semi-circle before he swung that leg back, straight as an arrow, and bending just slightly at the hip. As he extended his leg, he rotated his hip just slightly, until his leg was almost perpendicular to the floor and he could feel the phantom brush of his toe coming very close to the low-hanging light fixture in the center of his ceiling. His arm remained curved out to the side for balance, and he held the position for a few beats, adjusting his weight on his right foot just slightly, until he brought his leg back down, ending his micro-display in a plie.

It wasn’t much. He couldn’t show him a full rotation of his routine he’d been working on, and he honestly felt a little awkward, showing his friend such a fragmented section of his choreography. But he couldn’t help the little rush he felt nonetheless at being able to show Steve what he could do and James opened his eyes and looked over at Steve, waiting to see his reaction to his demonstration. He was met with the sight of Steve staring at him, open mouthed, and he burst into a giggle. “You okay?” James asked, straightening himself out again.

“Holy cow that was totally Black Swan material right there.” Steve asked, gazing at James with all the respect in the world glowing in his eyes.

“You really think so.” James mused, his cheeks flushed pink as he leaned his hip back against the counter. “I really couldn’t show you much; I need a much bigger dancefloor to show you more, so I’m sorry about that.”

“Jesus, don’t even be sorry,” Steve breathed, shaking his head at him. “I don’t care if it was short, it was amazing. You just threw that out there like it was nothing. And in socks? I’d have broken my face. I don’t even think I could lift my leg _half_ that high.” Steve placed his teacup down and applauded James, smiling an openly lecherous smile at James. “Bravo. You are one _seriously_ flexible, well-oiled machine there, Bucky.”

“Not really,” James chuckled, waving off his applause for the moment. “I’m getting old. Might have to hang up the hobby sometime soon. I don’t get to rehearse as much as I’d like to anymore, and I’m not nearly as flexible as some of the other students.”

“Well, you’re plenty limber enough for me, that’s for sure,” Steve added, lowering his tone to a more inviting timbre. His eyes never left James’ face as he spoke, and he raised his brow at him in an inviting gesture. “If you get my meaning.”

“Actually, I think I do,” James shot back with a grin. He didn’t know why, but this odd sensation of something exciting- giddy, almost- rose up his chest from the pit of his stomach, and he found his smile brightening a little. It was so easy for James to return the flirt that Steve was so obviously giving him, it even startled James a little; so much, that he very nearly ruined the moment by saying something stupid or taking back his remark (a mistake he would have sorely beaten himself up over).

But before he could irreparably ruin their playful banter, Steve saved him from himself, and offered him a low-purr in return. “Why, Father I had no idea you were such a dirty man. I like this side of you,” he added, beaming happily at him from his side of the kitchen.

Relieved that he hadn’t embarrassed himself again in front of Steve, James rubbed his hand through his hair and pulled the hair tie from the nape of his neck with a smile. “This side of me, huh?” James asked, carefully slotting himself back into their flirty banter once again. Yeah, this definitely felt more comfortable than before. What would his classmates think of him now…

“Oh most definitely this side of you,” Steve replied. “And now that I know you can totally tear up a dancefloor, you know damn well I’m gonna be abducting you to go out dancing with me on my birthday this year. That is if you want to go.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”

“Hey now, I can sort of hold a beat. But if you really want, you can show me some of your moves and get a few practices in with me before we go out.” Steve finished off his cup of tea with a swig and carefully placed the teacup into the sink before bumping hips with James. “I change my mind. You have no choice, Father. We’re going dancing on my birthday. So there.”

“I think that sounds like an amazing idea, Steve. I look forward to it,” James breathed, relishing the feeling of warmth on his hip and the electric proximity of Steve so close to him. How he loved being this close to him. Maybe he could spend the rest of his evening with Steve after all. “Am I feeding you again tonight?” He asked, gesturing to the stove and gracefully ending their flirting then. “If you’re hungry, I can cook. I’m feeling a little hungry myself.”

“Wish I could, but I gotta get runnin’,” Steve replied, looking genuinely disappointed at that. “Gotta work tonight. First client is in a couple hours and I gotta go home and shower and stuff, ya know?”

James nodded, feeling his giddy bubble burst in his chest and wither into something a little more negative. He was pretty sure it was disappointment, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he may or may not have been feeling a little jealous too. Now that was something he was _not_ about to start dwelling on; he already committed enough sins as it was. He didn’t need to add envy to the list. “I understand. Just make sure you eat and stay safe?”

“I will,” Steve replied with a wink. With that, the two men crossed the room, so James could walk Steve out properly. They stopped as James opened the door for him, and Steve turned, offering James a bright look. “You doing anything tomorrow afternoon?”

“Nothing after 1 o’clock. Why’s that?” James asked, feeling his hope welling up again.

“Oh good. I’ll meet you here, and we can hang out tomorrow afternoon after I get some sleep in the morning. Unless you got other plans you’d rather be doing?”

“No, not at all,” James breathed, beaming up at him. “I’ll see you at 1 o’clock tomorrow then!”

“Yup, it’s a date,” Steve breathed, his smile softening as he gazed down at James. The two of them fell into silence, standing just barely a foot apart from each other as they gazed at one another in delight. Neither moved nor spoke for a moment, until at last the silence was broken.

Before James could even realize what Steve was doing, Steve leaned in, pressing his hands to James’ shoulders. Without missing a beat, Steve closed the gap between them and pressed the most gentle, chaste kiss James had ever experienced in his whole life, to his cheek. He lingered for a moment, breath soft against his skin as he kissed James sweetly, before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze again. “Is it okay if I touch you here…” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

James was stunned. Stunned that Steve had been as bold as to kiss him without warning right in the open doorway. Stunned that he had accepted the kiss so readily instead of pushing him away. Stunned that he was weak at the knees at such a soft touch, and stunned that he hadn’t leaped right in to kiss Steve back. He was speechless as he blinked in a daze, mentally begging for another, and unnerved to know that he had finally hit rock bottom with this whirlwind of a person that had turned his world upside down.

Well… he was a damned man as it was. He had already made a mental promise to himself to enjoy this ride for as long as he could until October. Might as well start enjoying it now and hope it didn’t come back to bite him later.

Nodding up at Steve, James breathed out a shaky puff of air. “Yeah. It’s okay.” He murmured, leaning into Steve’s grip for just a moment. “I don’t mind.”

Steve peered back at James, looking visibly torn at that moment. It took James a moment to realize why that was; Steve was actually contemplating if he should actually leave or not. But it seemed the call of duty won out finally, and he dropped his hands from James’ shoulders, offering him a mock salute and a tempting wink. “Tomorrow at 1 o’clock.” With that, he slipped out of the brownstone, descending the stairs to the sidewalk. He turned back and waved at James, looking happier than he had since the first time James had met him. “Have a good night. Sleep sweet, Bucky.” Without another word, Steve turned and departed, making his way down the sidewalk towards his destination for the evening.

James didn’t move from the door for a long moment, watching Steve make his way down the block until the dark of evening finally obscured him from sight. Time slow down as he stood stock-still in the doorway, taking the opportunity to feel his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he stared off into the dark. He couldn’t shake the smile that adorned his features now and with a tentative gesture, he raise his hand and touched his cheek; his skin was still tingling from where Steve had pressed such a tender kiss into his flesh.

Stupid man. Stupid circumstances. James was a fool and he couldn’t help how delighted he was at being such a fool. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he was enjoying every second of it while he could. If he’d doubted his previous observation, James knew there was no denying it now. Damned man that he was, he knew now that he was most certainly, and irreversibly, falling in love for the first time in his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upcoming chapter will have some topics that may be sensitive to some readers. I'll post a warning at the beginning of the chapter just to be sure. Hopefully I can update some of my other stories soon!!! Thank you so much readers!!! :D


	4. Salutem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James realizes his future career may not be as pious as he thought. Steve comes to the rescue and shows him exactly how kind a soul can be. Meanwhile, Steve's mistake comes back to haunt him, leaving him with a difficult decision to make for the sake of everyone involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOooo another chapter up! And this one's a bit of an emotional doozy! So hold on tight and enjoy the ride. Just don't kill the author okay?!
> 
> So in this chapter, I'm making reference to an article I read online, according to one instance in the story. It's an instance that may be slightly uncomfortable to read, but I'm using this real life controversy as inspiration for this story. The link to the article is here: http://www.washingtonblade.com/2014/02/17/gay-man-says-priest-refused-give-last-rites/
> 
> I'm not saying that this is the norm for situations like this, I'm just saying it's inspiration for the story here. So, I guess this can be considered a trigger warning?
> 
> Also, trigger warning for a semi-graphic depiction of a panic attack in this story. I'm basing it off of my own personal experience of a panic attack and how it felt, which I know is not the same for every person. But still, trigger warning for that!
> 
> ALSO WE HAVE HINTS AT THE FIRST BIT OF NSFW IN THIS CHAPTER AAAAHHHH!!!! Poor poor James didn't hold out long in this story. He's just too smitten by Steve to resist him. I mean, who could blame him honestly? YOU GO LITTLE PRIEST BOY! YOU GO!!!!
> 
> ANYWAY ENJOY THE CHAPTER! THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT EVERYONE!!!!

“Bucky, I swear to God if you tell me to get the paisley sofa, I will unfriend you! I don’t believe you when you say it’s a sin!”

James fought back a huge grin at Steve’s protest. He ducked his head to hide it from him, before tossing the swatch of brightly colored fabric back onto the pile where it lay with its other forgotten brothers and sisters. “What? How do you know I was even going to suggest it? I was just looking!”

“Don’t gimme that shit, you had a smug little smile on your face. I know how to read you. And you, _Father_ , were about to suggest I get a paisley sofa.” Steve stopped griping long enough to cross the little showroom floor. He stood right behind James, making a show of bending over his shoulder to glare down at the offending piece of cloth for a long moment. “Do I honestly look like that kinda guy? I’m hurt. I thought you knew me better than that!”

James shivered. Damn him, he could never hold back that reaction whenever Steve did something like that. He’d long since accepted the fact that his conscience enjoyed dancing on the fringes of propriety when it came to Steve, but he always liked to think that he was at least strong enough to resist his charms outwardly.

James also knew he was lying through his teeth, to himself. He hadn’t been able to resist Steve’s charms from the get-go, and ever since Steve had pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek a week prior, James knew he was well and truly done for. James knew himself. He was a curious man. Curious enough that even the slightest hint of affection from Steve had rendered him totally enraptured by his presence. It was only a matter of time before he lost the war with his desires. First was the flirting, then came the kiss on the cheek. What next? James could only surmise, but if he was smart, he knew he had to get a grip on his curiosity before he ended up crossing a line that was steadily getting narrower by the day.

Stifling back his shiver of delight, James twisted around and glanced up at Steve. Steve was practically draped over his shoulder, and the Deacon found himself staring at him almost accusingly. Steve knew what he was doing, tantalizing him like this. Steve knew how much James appreciated the extra attention, even if he’d never actually vocalized that appreciation.

And he really had grown to appreciate everything his friend had done for him in their short time together. After all, Steve had turned out to be one of the best things in James’ life, even if that best thing had turned out to be his biggest temptation.

“Well, what can I say?” James asked. “You seemed like a flowery sort of guy. If I go to your apartment sometime and find out you have matching armchairs or curtains, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

“Is that you saying you wanna come over to my place sometime, because fuck yes,” Steve crooned. He took the moment to lean into James’ back, his arm casually draped around his waist as he plucked up the swatch of fabric he’d been staring at. He didn’t move an inch as he examined the cloth carefully, holding it up just enough that his arm brushed over James’ chest. “Hmm… I guess it’s not that bad. I mean if you really like it, maybe I can live with it.”

James inhaled. He looked up at Steve, his eyes wide in surprise as he listened to him contemplate the fabric in his hands. “And why would you be so willing to get paisley fabric for me?” he muttered in breathless curiosity.

Steve didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, he tore his gaze away from the cloth and met James’ head on. This close, James could see the ring of blue in Steve’s eyes shrinking bit by bit as his pupils grew in an excited flicker. “Well if it gets you to come over to my place for an extended period of time, I can live with having a sofa you’d like to spend time ruining with me.”

James’ breath caught in his throat. He felt his cheeks flushing before he tore his gaze away from Steve in an attempt to maintain his composure. As much as he wanted to allow himself a brief moment to revel in the attention given to him, he found himself glancing around the shop in no little apprehension. ‘Steve- we’re not alone, you can’t flirt with me in here.”

“Who says I can’t?” Steve asked. He grinned wickedly at James before leaning in and letting his lips brush over the shell of his ear. “Admit it. You like the thrill of possibly bein’ caught just as much as I do. I’m not holding onto you at all, Buck. You have plenty opportunity to pull away if you really wanted to.”

James flushed again. Glancing away from his friend, he stared plaintively at his own waist. Steve’s arms were nowhere near his hips. There was no anchor to hold him in place, no root to keep him tucked into Steve’s chest but his own desires. He _hated_ when Steve was right.

“You’re a menace,” James murmured, twisting around to offer Steve a knowing look. “You just like teasing me like this. You don’t even really like me that much.”

“Now that’s a bold faced lie and you know it,” Steve laughed, though he did finally straighten up from his crouch and offered James a moment's respite from his flirting. “But since you seem to be so uncomfortable, I’ll let it go. Gotta pick out this stupid couch, anyway. Who would have thought buying a couch would be such a hard decision?”

“I dunno,” James chuckled. “But whatever couch you pick, I hope your car is big enough to haul it.”

“Nah, they got movers. I’ll just ask them to bring it to my place.”

James conceded to that thought, and turned his attention back to the couches. He was grateful that Steve had decided to lay off the charm just a little bit; to be honest, James wasn’t entirely sure if he was totally comfortable with the idea of Steve being so affectionate with him in public. He still had to worry about who might see him and get the wrong idea if they saw Steve hanging all over him. He also realized that Steve was right and he _may_ have found the idea of being caught just as tempting as Steve’s behavior; now that was something he had to refrain from pursuing. He had a reputation to maintain and a career to continue preparing for.

Well… maybe he was better off keeping his curiosity on the down-low.

He was just looking at a large beige sleeper sofa, when his pocket began vibrating. Glancing down, he stuffed his hand into his pocket and fished out his phone, only to find his Diaconate’s number ringing merrily on it. Frowning heavily, James swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear with a tentative ‘hello’, praying that he wasn't missing class at that very moment. He didn't _think_ he had class that day; he couldn’t really remember. He really couldn’t remember a lot of his schedules anymore, not when he was too concerned on when he could see Steve next.

 _“Reverend Barnes, it’s Father Greg. Ah, no need to panic,”_ the voice on the other end soothed. _“I do apologize for interrupting your day off, but we have an opportunity for more exposure before your_ _ordination in a few months. I thought that perhaps you’d want to know about it before the others.”_

“Exposure?” James asked. He settled his phone on his left shoulder, using the prosthetic to hold it to his ear as he fussed with the cloth swatches for a moment. “What kind of exposure?”

 _“We have a priest from our neighboring diocese who is preparing to see a man in hospice. He’s to perform his Last Rites for him. I know you_ _just finished covering that in your classes, so I figured you would want the opportunity to get some hands on experience with it. I know your peers aren’t as well caught up as you are in their studies, so your instructors and I agreed that we should ask you instead of the others just yet.”_

James’ eyes widened at that and he found himself nodding eagerly. To be singled out from his entire class for this opportunity was a huge honor; he knew if any of his classmates caught wind of this, they would be sorely disappointed in their instructor's’ decision. How could he pass up an opportunity like this? “Yes! Yes I’ll definitely take the opportunity. When do you need me at the church?”

_“Actually, if you would go directly to our parishioner’s home, that would be best. According to your personal records, you actually live very close to where he does. Meet us there in an hour?”_

James flinched. “Can you make it an hour and a half? I’m not home at the moment and I’m not going to be able to get a cab at this time of day. I just need to walk home and change.”

_“Very well, an hour and a half. Father Lichtenhauer will be presiding over it and I will be there to supervise the whole thing while you assist him.”_

James nodded, though he felt a little disappointment overtake his earlier excitement. He’d been under the impression he would actually be presiding over it with supervision. But he could live with assisting. At least it was more than what his peers were getting. “Alright, an hour and a half. Thank you, Father Greg.”

His Diaconate bid him goodbye, rattling off the address to James before the line disconnected. With that taken care of, James turned back to the interior of the shop, where he saw Steve perusing some cushions with a careful hand. “Steve I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” he muttered apologetically. “My Diaconate called. I was offered a chance to get some extra work done for my classes and I decided to take the opportunity while I had it.”

Steve paused, looking up at him from the other side of the room. “You got priestly stuff to do?” he asked. For the briefest moment, a flicker of disappointment crossed his lips before a smile chased away the look, and he straightened up. “That’s awesome. I mean, if you gotta go I’m not gonna hold you back here. I can pick out a sofa myself.”

James frowned, feeling guilty for abandoning Steve like this. “I’m sorry, I would stay but… this is kind of a big deal for me.”

“No I get it, Bucky! It’s okay,” he reassured him with a smile. Then he paused, looking at James for a moment. “Wait, didn’t you walk here? How are you going to get to where you need to be?”

James chuckled. “As God intended? On foot?”

“Yuck. But air conditioning, man,” Steve grumbled. “Air conditioning is awesome. Walking out in the heat is not. How come you walked anyway?”

James fought to keep his expression neutral. As much as he had hated admitting to Steve he was a dancer, he _really_ didn’t want to admit to him why he never drove anywhere. Very few people wanted to hear that he danced ballet. Even fewer people cared to listen to the sob story that he still had nightmares about car crashes and was terrified of driving, almost two decades later.

So he decided to settle on his fallback answer, and simply shrugged. “I didn’t think having a car was necessary. Saves a lot on bills and I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Even as the lie left James, he tried his hardest not to feel guilty about fibbing to Steve. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to lie about, he reasoned. It was simply withholding unnecessary information he didn’t need to know about. There wasn’t anything really wrong with that...

“Okay…” Steve muttered, looking only slightly convinced by that answer. “So, do you want me to drive you where you need to go? I really don’t mind.”

James shook his head, though he was touched by Steve’s concern. “I’ll be fine, really. Will I see you later today, or do you have to work?”

“Yeah, I got a client tonight, but I can stop by this evening for dinner if you want me to,” Steve said. He crossed the room and pulled James into a hug, which James accepted readily. Steve lingered for a moment, running his hand along James’ spine, before pulling back and offering James a wink. “Okay, go spread the word of God. I’ll see you later this evening. Just shoot me a text when you’re all done.”

James nodded, and slowly unfurled his arms from around Steve’s waist. He let his prosthetic fall heavily to his side, though his flesh arm lingered by Steve’s waist for a moment longer. “Alright, I will. Good luck with your sofa hunt!”

“It’s too bad you’re not gonna be here. I could use someone with a bionic arm to lift it!” Steve said with a grin.

“It’s not bionic!” James laughed as he turned for the door. “You’re getting your centuries mixed up again.”

“Oh damn, I thought the cars looked odd.”

James laughed again, leaning against the door for support. “You’re an impossible man, Steve Rogers,” he said affectionately.

“Yeah well that’s why you love me,” Steve shot back. He blew a kiss towards the Deacon before batting his eyes. “Go before you’re late. I don’t wanna be the cause of you getting in trouble with your teacher or something. I’ll see you later, Bucky!”

James conceded to his request and bid Steve goodbye as well. He left the shop, feeling a little lighter than he had in a long time.

He really shouldn't look so giddy. He was about to go give Last Rites to some poor guy on his deathbed, and here he was practically skipping down the sidewalk. Steve really did bring out the worst in him sometimes. Even still, he couldn't help but adore how happy his bombshell friend made him.

After a long, grueling walk in the heat of spring’s sun, James finally arrived home, where he darted inside to change into his uniform. He hated the fact that he was sweaty under the collar, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He just didn’t have the time to take a quick shower and rinse off the sweat from his walk. Quite suddenly, he regretted not taking up Steve’s offer for a ride earlier; in the interim, he begrudgingly spritzed some deodorant to hide the smell of sweaty skin, and ran a washcloth over his face and neck to clean the stickiness away.

Once he was fairly certain he looked presentable, he pulled his hair back from his face and into a low bun at the nape of his neck. With only minutes to spare before he had to be at his destination, James darted from the brownstone and began to jog to the man’s house, where his superiors waited for him. It really was closer than he thought; within minutes, James had arrived, on the dot, and found himself met with the sight of two priests standing outside the building. One was an old gentleman with wrinkles, a head of greying hair and a stooped posture. The other was James’ senior by about 20 years, but friendly looking and sporting a bald head. He wore glasses, and his black cassock fit snugly around a rotund belly. James always liked Father Greg. He reminded him quite a lot of his own father.

“James! Right on time,” Father Greg exclaimed. He gestured to the withered old man at his side and nodded. “Reverend, this is Father Lichtenhauer. Father, our Reverend Barnes.”

The older priest looked down at James from the steps, and the faint excuse of a smile he wore on his lips faded away to nothing. His hawkish eyes narrowed down at the young man, making James squirm under his scrutiny. “I wasn’t aware that we were allowing such dress code for our clergy these days. Up and coming priests with long hair. What a turn this century has taken,” he said, glaring slightly at James’ low bun before finally extending his hand to him in greeting. There was absolutely no warmth in his gaze as he waited for James to take his hand.

James frowned, feeling himself shrinking back just a touch under his judging eyes. He’d been meaning to go get his hair cut for a while now, but with the advent of his friendship with Steve, he'd completely lost track of scheduling the time to go and see a barber. Besides, he really liked his hair this way, and he was pleased to know that Steve appreciated the longer locks on him. But then again, this was a more pious career choice he’d settled on. Perhaps he really should go see a barber soon…

“Uhm,” James murmured awkwardly. He took the old priest’s hand finally and shook it before stepping back; he fought the urge to avert his gaze from him and held fast to a proud expression despite his uncertainty. Well if this was how his afternoon was going to go, James was certainly going to regret taking on this opportunity. “I suppose I haven’t been thinking about getting a haircut recently, no...”

The fissure between the two men was near instantaneous. Father Lichtenhauer seemed to have an instant dislike for James simply because his hair was long. James couldn’t find it in himself to really see respect in the older clergyman. He never really did appreciate the attitude of most of his much older peers.

Luckily, Father Greg spoke up at that moment, clapping his hands to break the vicious tension between the two men. ”Well! It’s a shame we all couldn’t meet on happier occasions, but duty calls at this point. We should head in.” he murmured, visibly hoping to dispel the dissent between them.

Father Lichtenhaur moved first, breaking his line of sight with James to lead the way into the house. His hunched shoulders remained rigid as he walked into the building; he bent and picked up the little case from the floor that held their necessary tools for the ritual, and gestured into the building. “Shall we go meet our parishioner?”

James stared after the old man, and a flicker of heat built up in his chest. Cocky. Bigoted. That was the vibe James got off of this man. Judging him simply because he had long hair, and now marching about like he owned this whole operation? James was never quick to cast judgement, but he knew right then and there that he did _not_ like Father Lichtenhauer. He wanted nothing more than to walk away from this place and put it behind him; the last thing he needed was this golden opportunity to leave a sour taste in his mouth with this guy’s attitude.

But there was nothing he could do about it now; he’d already accepted his Diaconate’s proposal for extra credit. He just hoped this ritual went by quickly.

Embittered by the old man’s chauvinism, James averted his gaze from his Diaconate and chose simply to follow the two of them into the building. However, it seemed that his luck would only get worse from there; the second the door shut behind him, cutting him off from the outside world, the atmosphere inside the building quickly took a turn for the worst, and only grew more bothersome the deeper in they ventured.

He really couldn’t put his finger on it at first. Feeling dreadfully uneasy, James followed at the tail end of the group, his eyes darting about the interior of the hallways as he took in the sounds and smells of the building. Then it came to him. Like a slap to the face, the memory of hospital scent washed over him in a drowning wave. His heart ramped up to a nervous staccato in his chest as the sickly stench drudged up long suppressed memories all over again. He felt his stomach tighten up into a ball of apprehension and he fisted his right hand at his side. Of course he remembered this smell. He _hated_ this smell.

The further he walked into the house, the more he felt his steps faltering; his mind drowned out reality, dragging him into a surreal trip down memory lane that felt all too real and all too painfully familiar. He could vividly remember the scrubbed sterility of the hospital operating room, the smell of antiseptic, the beeps of dozens of ominous looking machines. He remembered how terrified he’d felt after he’d been pulled from the wreckage of the car, and how futile it all seemed when the paramedics had rushed him into the hospital to try and save his arm. None of this cleanliness and order and miraculous machinery could bring back his family. None of it could restore his arm. And that was the worst part about hospitals; it all seemed so horrifying with its strict order and prideful reputation, and yet no one had been more helpless in the wake of his nightmare.

James was startled back to awareness when he ran into Father Greg’s shoulder. He looked up at him in confusion, watching as his Diaconate’s face pulled into a small frown. Well, that didn’t look good. What on Earth was he staring at?

When he tore his gaze away from his mentor’s face, James glanced down the hallway towards the bedroom. The door was shut, and in front of the door stood Father Lichtenhauer, a middle aged woman in hospital scrubs, and a man. The man was thin, though not terribly so, and wiry. He had a thick head of black hair on his head that was dotted with the beginnings of silver at his temples, and his face was lined with the faint touch of wrinkles. His eyes were red rimmed and watery, and he wrung his hands in front of himself nervously as he spoke in low tones to Father Lichtenhauer. From the look on his face and the angered expression on the hospice nurse’s gaze, whatever the priest was saying, neither of them liked it one bit.

“What’s going on?” James asked. He glanced up at Father Greg, his eyes imploring for an answer as he touched his shoulder. “What’re they talking about?”

Father Greg frowned and looked down at his student carefully. “I don't know for sure but it seems like whatever it is, Father Lichtenhauer doesn’t want to go in the room. From what I could hear, it seems like he won’t be completing his Last Rites.”

“What?!” James exclaimed loudly. He ducked his head when his outburst caught the attention of the other three and he looked down at the floor for a moment before leaning closer to his mentor. “What do you mean he doesn’t want to do it? Why won’t he go in? This man’s dying, he expressed he wanted his rites given to him!”

Before Father Greg could explain further, Father Lichtenhauer approached the two of them, his wizened hand tight around the handle of his case. “This man, I was unaware, is not a fully practicing parishioner. His husband, as you can see, just informed me of their marital status. I think, in the interest of these circumstances, a prayer is more appropriate for our man.” Without a word, he handed the case to James and brushed his hands off as if he had touched something foul. “I’m sorry that you were taken away from your obligations for no reason, Reverend, but if Father Greg agrees with me, then you are free to go. See to it that this case is returned to the car outside this building please. On your way now.”

James stared at him in shock and bubbling fury. He couldn’t believe it. In all his years on this planet, he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life! To his utter disgust, Father Lichtenhauer actually admitted he was refusing to give this man his Rites, simply because he was married to another man. It was _horrifying_. He’d never heard of anything so wrong in his life. Was this the precedence James was supposed to learn from?

Instantly, his mind went to Steve, and a thrill of dismay bubbled up his chest until he felt like he was choking on it. Did it mean that someone like Steve- good, kindhearted and friendly- could receive such a blow to basic human rights as well, if he were in this same situation? James couldn’t bear the thought. He cared for him too much to even fathom having to let Steve go through something like this.

No. James would not be a part of this if he could help it. _No one_ deserved this sort of hatred and ill will.

“Are you kidding me?” he spluttered. Looking between the two priests for a moment, James felt his chest constrict with anger. He straightened his shoulders out and leveled them both with a righteous glare, his fingers tightening around the handle of the case. “Are you _kidding_ me right now? You’re actually going to deny this man his last rites just because he’s _gay_? That’s not fair, you can’t do that to him!”

“Reverend, I’d watch your tone if I were you,” Father Lichtenhauer warned him. His voice took on a dangerous turn as he leveled the younger man with his most threatening glare. “You’re crossing a very dangerous line, talking down to us this way.”

In the past, James might have considered adhering to his elder’s words. He may have blindly allowed himself to be swayed by this blatant hatred simply because he didn’t want to anger anyone in his field. Now? Now, James didn’t care. He didn't care to listen to what he had to say, nor had the time to consider what the consequence of this was.

He had to do something about this.

“No. This isn’t fair, you can’t do that to him,” James said again. His voice shook with fury and he tore his gaze away from them. Gripping the case tightly, he marched right on past the two sputtering priests and approached his parishioner’s husband with determination in his eyes. “Sir, please allow me in to see your husband.”

The thin man looked up at James, his eyes welling up with tears again. At his side, the hospice nurse placed her hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You’re… you’re going to do this for him?” he asked in a quaking voice.

“I am,” James said. “No one deserves to have their last wish taken away from them.”

The man didn’t speak. He simply leveled James with a grateful smile, and gestured to the door to lead him inside.

The minute the door was opened, he stepped inside and turned to the other. “Close and lock the door,” he murmured. He knew he was committing a huge infraction against his church for this, but honestly, he didn’t care. Let them punish him for his actions. At least he’d go down, knowing he did something right. “Close and lock the door so we can have privacy,” James repeated as he offered the man next to him a comforting look.

“REVEREND! THIS IS COMPLETELY IRREGULAR! I’ll see to it that your parish hears about this!”  Father Lichtenhauer shouted from the other end of the hallway. James looked up to see the old man and his Diaconate staring at him. He was slightly relieved to see that Father Greg didn’t look angry at him. Just disappointed. He could deal with that.

For a moment, the spouse didn’t speak. He simply kept his eyes leveled on James for a moment, looking stunned by his decision. Still, he did as he was told and locked the door behind them, barring the others from entering the room and cutting off the old priest’s angry tirade. Now left to their silence, he glanced up at James with a confused shimmer in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

James didn’t answer him. He didn’t care to inform this man that what he was doing was considered abhorrent in the eyes of the church. All that mattered now was giving these two men the one thing they had asked for to be at peace with themselves. And if it came at the expense of James’ reputation at the parish, then so be it. “What’s your name?”

“Paul.”

James nodded. “Paul, I’m going to say this: it doesn’t matter what happens to me. All that matters is giving your husband what he is rightfully owed. That’s all I care about. Anything beyond this moment is my concern and nothing you should have to worry about. You did nothing wrong and I’m going to see to it that your husband gets what he is owed according to the Church.” James straightened his shoulders and tightened his grip on the case. “May I see to him now?”

For a moment, Paul didn’t move. He kept his eyes trained on James for a beat too long, before they welled up again. Two fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he fought back a sniffle before gesturing into the room. “He’s- Aiden’s by the window. We had his bed moved to the window in the last couple weeks. He’s got late stage leukemia so he gets cold easily and the sunlight helps him.” Paul inhaled, choking off a sob as he kept his gaze from James. “They gave him six months to live. He hasn’t even made it three.”

James listened, feeling his throat tightening up. This was the part he hadn’t prepared himself for. Logically, he knew what he had accepted getting himself into earlier that day, giving the final send off to a dying man. But now that it was there, in his face, he realized he was not prepared at all for this. Burying his entire family 13 years ago hadn’t prepared him for the fact that he’d have to do this as part of his career. And now he’d thrown himself in headlong, all alone, without the support of more experienced clergymen to help him through this difficult task.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he nodded to Paul and followed him into the room. Sure enough, a hospital grade bed had been set up by the bright bay window of the bedroom, illuminating the gaunt figure that lay in the thick nest of blankets. The man was ghostly pale, stripped of hair, and hooked up to every machine James could possibly think of to monitor his health. But none of those machines were life preserving or lifesaving. Not on hospice. There was no saving someone this far gone.

His earlier bravado fled him in an instant. James found himself rooted to the spot, staring at the dying man in front of him. All at once, all of his past pain and misery, loss and grief, came back full force, leaving him trembling in his spot. He practically swayed on his feet as he stared at the man in the bed. His fingers trembled as he held tightly to the case, and the lump in his throat tightened up until he felt like he could vomit.

Death. He didn’t handle death well. He couldn’t even watch death scenes in films, as fake and staged as they were. And yet here he was, throwing himself headlong into the thick of one of the hardest moments in losing a person’s life, like he thought he could handle it. He hadn’t been thinking. All he’d cared about was the injustice of Father Lichtenhauer’s bigotry, denying this sick soul’s last wish like that.

And just like that, James remembered exactly why he was tormenting himself like this. This wasn’t about him. This was about Aiden and his wishes. He couldn’t back down now. He had a job to do and he would be damned if he failed them now.

“Reverend?” Paul asked, timid and uncertain. He stood by the bed for a long moment, his spidery fingers wrapped around his husband’s as he watched the panicking Deacon from across the room. “Reverend, are you alright?”

That snapped James out of it. Shaking his head, he looked up at the two of them through the haze of his distress. He could feel the edges of tears in his eyes, but put on a brave face for the sake of the two men in front of him. Clearing his throat, he quickly wiped them away before they could fall and alarm the others.

“I’m alright,” he croaked around his emotions. Nodding to Paul, James took a second to calm himself down before he crossed the room and set his case down on the table. With his hands free, he turned his attention back to the dying man, and leveled his best smile he could down at him.

The sick man, Aiden, shifted in his bed. He tore his eyes open against the sheer exhaustion that weighed down his frail figure, and glanced up at James through the beams of sunlight. Aiden didn’t move for a moment, taking in the sight of the Reverend next to him. After a moment, he uttered one tired bark of a laugh. “They sure make ‘em young these days,” he wheezed around the oxygen flooding his system.

James cracked a wider smile. At least the man was in good spirits. Taking a seat next to him, James reached his good hand into the bed and took Aiden’s to give his fingers a squeeze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wellick. My name is James. Unfortunately, Father Lichtenhauer couldn’t make it, but I’ll be offering your Rites in his stead. Shall we get started?”

“Quickly, please. Before I fall back asleep again. Don’t want to be comatose for my own funeral, eh?” Aiden chuckled. The laugh was quickly drowned out by a wet, chesty cough, and he curled up in the bed, obviously in pain as he struggled to breathe.

James felt his heart seizing up at the sight, only moving long enough to let Paul swoop in and comfort his husband through the coughing fit. It was disturbing, seeing this man looking so sick and struggling to hold onto life for just a little bit longer. James couldn’t imagine how long this man had been suffering like this. At this point, he didn’t look like he would last the duration of this ritual, let alone another day.

He waited patiently for Aiden to get his breath back. When he did, he watched with a forced smile as Paul stepped away again and took his seat at the foot of the bed to let James work. It was now or never. James took a breath, and steeled himself.

“Okay,” James muttered. He did his best to rein in his panic, turning his attention back to the case at his side. He popped the clasps quickly, and began to fish out the oils and bible he’d need for the ritual. He was rather proud of himself that his fingers only trembled slightly. “Okay… let’s get this show on the road, yes?”

* * *

 

James didn’t remember a Last Rites services being so short. He remembered all of his practice runs vividly. Maybe he’d forgotten a step; he wouldn’t put it past himself to forget a crucial prayer or a specific passage. His nerves were fried enough that he could easily forget his name, let alone a complicated ritual like this.

But after a quick mental checklist of the proper steps, James realized that he’d done absolutely everything necessary to complete his task and absolve the man of his sins. He’d done it, all on his own. Even if it technically wasn’t valid because of his status, at least he’d given the man what he needed in his darkest hour. Despite his apprehension, James actually felt a little proud of himself.

After he’d completed his ritual, James settled his things back into the case, vaguely wondering if his Diaconate and Father Lichtenhauer were still waiting outside. He highly doubted it. That was alright, he’d just have to return his things to him at a later time. He had more important things to do than rush this case back to _that_ man.

He should have taken his chance to leave when he had finished his service.

After James had packed up his things, he’d decided to take a few moments to sit with the husbands and talk with them, just to pass the time. He felt awkward about simply packing up and leaving after he’d done his job. It felt heartless and cold and he didn’t want to do that to them. After all, the church had already disappointed the two of them once that day.

With his decision made, James had settled back into his seat next to Aiden, his good hand gently wrapped around the dying man’s wrist as he spoke in low tones with Paul. Shortly after the ritual, Aiden had slipped off into sleep again, his thin wrist cool in James’ palm and his breathing shallow and even. He looked far more at peace than he had when James had first laid eyes on him that afternoon.

As Aiden slept, James and Paul spoke quietly, discussing their day and odd and end things. James learned that Aiden used to be a carpenter, and that the two of them had met in Wisconsin during a summer music festival. Aiden had loved indie rock music, had made most of the furniture in their home, and had proposed to Paul in the most adorable way possible. Paul was teary eyed as he recounted the way Aiden had tried to propose to him while they were in a rowboat in the middle of a backwoods Wisconsin lake. Somehow, in his excitement to do so, he’d accidentally made the whole boat capsize, throwing their belongings into the lake along with them and the very expensive golden ring Aiden had gotten. They married shortly after that mishap and had spent 24 blissful years together, moving to New York so Paul could pursue his writing career and Aiden could sell his woodworking to wealthy New York homeowners.

It was the most poignant story James had ever heard. As he listened, he gently ran his thumb over Aiden’s pulse point and fought the urge to question everything wrong with God’s design. Next to him lay a human being, shriveled up by disease and dying long before his time. Before him, sat the man’s husband, a soul madly in love with the dying and preparing to be left alone in this world, broken hearted and lost. And if James hadn’t stepped in when he had, neither of them would have had the closure they needed to say goodbye to this horrible disease and move onto the final phase of life. It disturbed James to realize how cruel his own peers had been towards these two men. It disturbed him to realize how cruel life really was, attempting to deny these men what they begged for, and tearing them apart long before their time.

As James sat with Aiden, offering up whatever comfort he could, _it_ happened. He had no idea what made him look down, but the sudden pull of “something” had James tearing his gaze away from Paul and glancing down at Aiden at that exact moment. It was just in time to watch one of the most horrific things in his whole life unfold before him.

James physically felt Aiden’s life end. One second, the man was sleeping peacefully at his side, comforted by the knowledge that his soul had been prepared for its passage to Heaven. The next, the sheer essence of his being simply gave out. There was no way to accurately describe it, but moments before the heart monitor in the room gave its ominous drone, James just knew Aiden was gone. Holding his wrist, he felt the man’s spirit slip away into nothingness like water dripping from between his fingers. It was the strangest sensation and it had every hair on his body stand up in shock.

James didn’t move for a moment. He simply stared at the figure lying next to him, his palm white hot against the cooling skin beneath his grip. It seemed as if Aiden had simply been waiting for James to give him his last wish. With his task complete, he had no reason to linger anymore. He slipped away peacefully, his hand still in James’ as he lay in that bed, finally free of the pain and suffering that had plagued him for months. He was free from his pain. He went Home.

James didn’t move. He simply couldn't. Staring down at the deceased man next to him, he felt every nerve ending in his body fire off at once, numbing him where he sat until he could barely breathe. He felt like he was having an out of body experience, staring at the figure next to him.

For the second time in his life, he had outlived a person’s biological clock, cut short by God’s decision. The feel of Aiden’s spirit leaving his body for the afterlife left him feeling cold and paralyzed by the experience. He hadn’t just witnessed a man die for the second time in his life. He actually, _physically_ experienced his passing, felt the angels whisk him away to Heaven and leave this terrain behind for good.

Horrified, James pressed his thumb into the man’s pulse point, feeling for anything. It was as if he could convince himself this hadn’t just happened. He wasn’t supposed to be holding this man’s hand when he died. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was simply supposed to give him his Rites and leave. He wasn’t supposed to watch another person die...

But there was no pulse and there never would be again. With titanic effort, James tore his gaze away from Aiden and glanced over at Paul. The man was openly crying, watching his deceased husband with all the pain and loss etched into his tired features. No. No, this was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

“He’s… I’m sorry,” James whimpered. He let go of Aiden’s hand and stood up quickly from his chair, looking for all the world like he was responsible for his passing. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have… I should have let you… I-”

“N-no. No it’s okay,” Paul cried. He shook his head, crossed the room in two strides and pulled James into a tight hug. “I think he needed you to hold his hand. To know that there was still a priest out there that cared about us. About those that don’t fit the mold of the church’s expectations. We were kicked out of our parish when we got married. We got a lot of scorn for years for being who we were.” Paul pulled back, wrapping his arms around his own thin waist as he stared down at his husband’s corpse. “He needed to leave this world, knowing he wasn’t a sinner like everyone told him he was.”

“I’m… I'm not a priest, though,” James muttered helplessly. Aiden really thought he was a priest? No, no, this was all so wrong. Now he just felt even guiltier for tricking a dying man like that. ‘ _I should never have done this.’_ he thought to himself in frantic dismay.

“That doesn't matter. It's what he needed. Actual priests weren't willing to give him his final wish.” Paul looked up at James and offered him a weak, watery smile. “I don't care what the church says. You did the right thing, Reverend. Thank you. Thank you for not being like them.”

That was the final straw. The horror of what Paul was saying hit James like a brick to the heart, and he felt himself reeling. He had known the stigma the church viewed the LGBT community with for years. It didn’t matter that there were those out there that were more openly accepting them now. There were still people out there that saw these two men as damned and sinners, scorning the obvious love and devotion they had for each other as evil.

James knew he wasn’t like any of them. He’d disobeyed his own parish to make sure of that. He’d done his part to assure Aiden that he wasn’t wicked in God’s eyes.

So why did he still feel so unbelievably horrible?

Struck dumb by the whole thing, James simply nodded to Paul, offering him the weakest smile he could muster. He offered the man one last handshake, quietly offering his condolences for his loss, before he decided he’d overstayed his welcome. Paul needed to grieve and prepare to bury his husband. He didn’t need a Deacon hovering on a panic attack to worry about as well.

James grabbed the case he’d stolen from Father Lichtenhauer, and departed the house altogether, fleeing the oncoming storm of his emotions as fast as he could. He descended the stairs on stilted legs, every step feeling heavier and more labored than the last. If he could just make it home, he could allow himself the privacy to lose his mind in the wake of his guilt and emotional turmoil. He just needed to make it home.

He barely made it ten steps down the sidewalk before the weight of his emotions finally tumbled down around him. One final step, and James’ knees gave out on him entirely, sending him stumbling into a light pole with a crash as the case in his hand hit the ground. He leaned against the pole for support, his forehead pressed against the metal. His limbs began to tremble violently, and the urge to be sick washed over him for a brief moment, before his heart seized up in his chest.

He’d watched another person die. He hadn’t handled watching his family die. Thirteen years later, he’d had to do it again. He wasn’t a strong man, he’d never been a strong man. Watching people die… was that his lot in life? Was he supposed to continuously watch innocent people die in the most terrible ways possible, while he moved on to the next victim like some horrible omen?

A thousand bees buzzed beneath the surface of his skin as he sank lower and lower into the pit of blinding terror. He was deaf. He’d gone deaf. He couldn’t breathe. His heart couldn’t take it. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, before a dousing cold washed over him.

Jesus above, _he_ was dying.

The fabric of time became a liquid blanket, washing over James like a million poisoned needles and dragging him to hell as he leaned against that blasted pole for support. Seconds ticked by loudly in his ears as his heart threatened to strangle him right there in his spot. His left arm hurt. He was having a heart attack. Christ, he was having such a bad heart attack, his _nonexistent_ left arm was warning him fervently, ‘seek help immediately’.

He didn’t have to imagine what it was like to teeter on the edge of death. He’d already experienced it firsthand. This, this was exactly what it felt like to die. Watching the world swim away, intangible, fluid and growing darker by the second. Helpless to stop it as one descended away. He always knew that one’s sense of hearing was the last thing to go. He knew that only too well; he could remembering hearing what his own tears sounded like before death fought to claim him. What if this was the last time? What if he died, right then and there, his heart giving out in the middle of a Brooklyn street?

Maybe this was how he was meant to go. Maybe the grim reaper had finally decided he’d had enough of this world and came thirteen years later to finish the job.

No, he couldn’t go yet. He’d hadn’t said goodbye to Steve.

Seconds ticked by. Tick tock, heartbeats racing, nerves burning hot, brain shutting down, iridescent light and smoky fog swallowing him up. Death always took its time. It had no agenda. He had nowhere else to be. He just wished the ache would go away sooner. Dying was always the longest seconds of his life, and…

Was this blasted pole shaking him?

“Hey! _Hey_!”

It was a flicker, sharp and true. Words cut through the static in his head. The pole was shaking him again. Words stamped out the needles for a moment, and James latched onto them for dear life as they poked pinprick beams of light through the dark. “Help…” he gasped, clinging desperately to those disembodied words as he tried to swim back to the surface of his own demise.

Hands landed on his shoulders. They were heavy, but comforting. He’d never felt such comfort in his life. Those words came back, attached to a voice so sweet and so familiar, they dusted away more of that static fuzz that had consumed him so thoroughly. It was a lovely voice. James loved that voice…

“Hey. James, look at me…  C’mon Bucky, look at me, okay?” A palm brushed over his cheek. The static cleared. Sun crept in. Death eluded him once again. The voice kept calling, kept him afloat. Maybe this time he could follow them. “Bucky, look at me. Come back to me, Buck…”

“St-Steve…” James blinked. His eyes were open. They’d been open the whole time, lashes sticky and salty, his cheeks damp. It took his sluggish mind seconds to realize the weird, colored blobs of light and substance hovering in front of him had taken on the shape of a face; a face with familiar cheekbones and terrified blue eyes.

Steve. Steve had found him. Steve had rescued him from the throes of death. This unconventional savior in his dark moment had found him again, knelt on the ground and shielding him from the world beyond the veil of his personal hell.

James blinked away the confusion, finally tearing his gaze from Steve’s face. He realized then, that he was sitting on the ground, his back propped up against the wall of the building he’d just vacated. His cassock had been tugged open, his tab collar laying on the ground next to him as if someone had haphazardly flung his clothing away from him moments before. Now, he was left in his black slacks and undershirt, the rest of his uniform pooled around him. His prosthetic arm was fully visible to the world at large, but for the first time in his life, James didn’t care. He was just too confused, his mind sluggishly trying to piece together what had just happened to him.

All around him, several people stood on the sidewalk, watching in morbid curiosity as a priest had a total mental breakdown right there in public. Some people looked worried, some amused by the sight of this trembling, grown adult man sitting on the sidewalk weeping like a child.

Oh. _Oh._ He was crying. When had he started crying?

But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the man kneeling in front of him, protecting him from the world beyond. His jacket had been tossed off to the side as he hovered in front of James like a worried mother hen, leaving his broad shoulders blocking out the view of the street. His palms, having drifted from his shoulders, cupped James’ face in their soft curves, holding his head steady as he brushed the tears from his cheeks and tried to coax the Deacon out of this breakdown.

James was confused. How the hell had Steve gotten here so quickly? How had he known he was having some sort of fit and needed help? He’d only collapsed a few seconds ago.

“Steve...” he slurred. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. James licked his lips and tried again. “Steve how did you… how did you know to come here? What happened?”

Steve frowned. “You don’t- you don’t remember?” When James shook his head, Steve sat back on his haunches in surprise. “Bucky, you called me. Like… twenty minutes ago. Kept saying ‘help me, help me,’ and then just rattled off an address at me before the line disconnected. Jesus Christ, I thought you got fuckin’ jumped or something.” Steve inhaled slightly, looking down at his lap. “Scared the shit out of me, s’what you did... “

Well that didn’t make sense. Confused, James looked down at himself, only to gape in awe at his right hand. In his palm, his cell phone sat in his limp fingers, the screen still brightly lit on Steve’s contact card. Sure enough, the latest call under Steve’s contact had been marked exactly 14 minutes and 45 seconds ago. He’d been so caught in the web of this panic attack, he lost a huge chunk of time to his own panic and fears, and made a terrible fool of himself in the process.

“Steve. Steve I’m-” he stammered. Looking up at his friend, James felt his eyes burning again as more tears began to well up at the corners again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. Wh-what did I do?”

“No, no, please don’t cry,” Steve pleaded. He brushed the new tears from his cheeks, leaning in to shield him from sight of total strangers watching them. “Please don’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You needed help, that’s- that’s not something to be embarrassed about. As soon as you called me, I left that shop and came to the address you told me. I found you kneeling on the ground, crying your eyes out. Couldn’t understand a word you were saying.” Steve moved, curling himself around James as he offered him a moment’s comfort.

Silence fell between them. James didn’t take his eyes off of the sidewalk in front of them, simply leaning into Steve’s side as he soaked up his affection. Too much… it was all too much. He couldn’t stay here anymore. He just wanted to go home with Steve, forget that any of this ever happened.

He just had no idea if he would make the walk home in this state.

“I want to go home,” James murmured wearily. He didn’t move an inch as he slumped into Steve’s breadth for warmth. “Take me home please.”

“Sure thing, Preach.” Without hesitation, Steve sat up. He offered him a gentle guiding hand as he helped James to his feet, steadying him. The cassock fell from his hips, and Steve scrambled to pick up the black cloth before it sat too long on the dirty sidewalk. “I’m sorry about your uniform but you kept saying you couldn’t breathe.” Steve offered him a weak, helpless shrug as he gingerly held the dirty uniform up. “Had to kinda rip it off of you to get you to breathe again. I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, I promise.”

James didn’t answer him. His uniform was the least of his worries. Instead, he leaned heavily into Steve’s arms, allowing the taller man to guide him to the car idling at the curb. With little resistance, James allowed Steve to carefully help him into the car and shut him inside. He didn’t look up at the crowd watching him. He couldn’t bear to see the looks of humor and jeering he was sure they were giving him.

Neither man spoke; as Steve drove him back to his apartment, just a few blocks away, the atmosphere in the car slowly relaxed. Steve never removed his hand from James’ thigh, and James never removed his prosthetic hand from his wrist. It wasn’t like he could feel his pulse, but the thought that he could touch Steve and remind himself that he wasn’t going anywhere, well, that was enough for him.

The remainder of the car ride was a blur. James felt like he was floating in ether as the car rolled to a stop outside his brownstone. He was weightless as Steve helped him out of the car and walked him up into the house. His legs felt like jelly and his nerves were shot as he was walked into his living room and deposited onto the sofa, where he collapsed against Steve’s chest like a dead weight. Somehow, in the collapse, James had ended up almost entirely in Steve’s lap, his head pillowed on a pectoral, and large, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Then, silence.

In the corner of the room, the clock ticked away quietly, echoing in the silent apartment. Neither man moved for a long time, just soaking up the other’s warmth as the harrowing afternoon finally dissipated. Now James just felt heavy and weak, his limbs still trembling just the slightest bit. He only took comfort from the gentle fingers tracing nonsense patterns up and down his spine through his undershirt, and he fought the urge to press a relieved, grateful kiss into the warm, firm chest beneath him.

It was strangely familiar. Laying like this on Steve’s chest was the most reassuring thing James had ever experienced in his life. Hearing the _thump-thump_ of his heartbeat, listening to his even breathing. Normally, in a stressful situation like this, James would be craving a cigarette. He was shocked to notice that with Steve as his body pillow, he had no desires to go outside and light up. Perhaps he had found a new addiction after all.

He would have voiced that thought to Steve, had he not been distracted by another thought altogether. Would have spoken up sooner, if not for the weird phenomenon going on with his throat. His mouth felt raw and sour, but for the life of him James couldn’t remember why.

“My mouth tastes weird,” he finally said, breaking the silence around them. He sluggishly lifted his head from Steve’s chest to look at him. _Really_ look at him, it seemed. He always thought Steve looked beautiful. Steve was perfection in every sense of the word, and he had always been rather taken by his flirting and demure attitude. But now, as he stared up at those concerned blue eyes, and felt those comforting arms around him, James realized he was beyond smitten with him. Paul and Aiden flickered into his mind’s eye for a moment, before he realized…

_‘I think I’m in love with him.’_

Steve watched him, licking his lips carefully. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from James’ forehead. “I think you threw up before I got there. Over the edge of the curb or something. I didn’t really see much, but you had like… stuff on your mouth when I got there. I wasn’t gonna say anything. I didn’t think you needed another thing to worry about.”

“Were people making fun of me?” James asked. He wasn’t particularly bothered by the idea that he’d vomited in the midst of his panic attack. He was just grateful for a logical explanation for the burning in his throat (and for the fact that Steve hadn’t witnessed something so humiliating). No, he was more concerned with the damage to his reputation he’d caused himself. _God_ , he hated this whole day with a passion.

Steve frowned. He brushed his fingers through James’ hair for a beat before cupping the back of his head. “Let’s not focus on them, okay?” he evaded, visibly hoping to change the subject. James was smart enough to translate that; he’d made himself a laughing stock to dozens of people in the middle of a Brooklyn neighborhood. Just par for the course, it seemed.

Exhausted, James simply lay his head back down on Steve’s chest. He relished the feeling of his fingers brushing through his hair, and he allowed his eyes to close. He didn’t want to think about how inappropriate it was that Steve was petting him like this, nor did he want to think about how inappropriate laying on him like this was. They were two grown men with boundaries that James had quite effectively crossed by using Steve as a body pillow. And with his epiphany about his feelings towards Steve, James knew he was dangerously close to doing something to hurt the both of them.

Then again, Steve wasn’t protesting his position; in fact, he’d openly allowed James to collapse against him. Perhaps- and this was a big perhaps- he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries _too_ much…

“So,” Steve began. This grabbed James’ attention and he looked up at his companion with confusion. “You wanna tell me what the hell caused you to have a meltdown like that?” Steve shifted, adjusting his shoulder on the arm of the couch so that he was propped up more comfortably. James didn’t hesitate to adjust himself accordingly, keeping the two of them lined up as they nuzzled into each other. “Whatever happened at that place… you didn’t even really tell me what you were doing. What kind of ceremony did you have to do? Did you get attacked or something?”

James bit his lip. He kept his eyes locked on Steve’s chest, too ashamed to admit to him what had really happened. What was he supposed to say, that he’d had a breakdown because he was stupid and took on a task he wasn’t ready for? No one would have sympathy for him. He wasn’t supposed to preside over that ritual, but he’d done it anyway.

But Steve didn’t lighten his gaze, and the questions hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable between them. James couldn’t hide it from Steve; as much as he felt ashamed of himself and as much as he could weather the worst of someone’s judgement, being under Steve’s scrutiny was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It didn’t take him long to crack, and when he did, he pressed his face into the other’s chest, hiding between the valleys of his pecs with a tired sigh.

“It was-” James stopped, and backtracked his statement. “So you know how disapproving the church is? You deal with that scrutiny all the time.” When Steve nodded in understanding, James pressed on. “Well, I was called in to assist in a Last Rites ceremony. But when we got there, the priest presiding over it wouldn’t do it because the man was gay, and his husband was watching over him. So I disobeyed them, and did the ceremony myself. Technically I wasn’t supposed to, but I had no choice if I wanted to make sure he got his last wish. Shortly after that, he died. He died while I was holding his hand…”

James shuddered, closing his eyes as he felt the phantom sensation against his palm. “I watched him die right there next to me. It- it triggered something in me. After that, after watching him die, I just lost it. I don’t remember exactly what happened after I left the house. The next thing I knew, you were waking me up. You brought me back.” James inhaled slowly. He did his best to stave off the tears that wanted to consume him again, though he was certain a few escaped him and stained the t-shirt beneath his cheek. “I’m sorry I took you away from your shopping. I didn’t mean to call you.”

“Jesus, no.” Steve muttered. Reaching down, Steve cupped James’ jaw in his hand and tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “Don't you ever be sorry about that. I’m so sorry you went through all that alone, but I’m glad you called me. You have no idea how much it woulda hurt me if I found out you got seriously hurt or sick after that panic attack. I care too much about you, James. Please don’t ever think you can't come to me when you need me.”

“What, are you saying you don’t mind babying me?” James asked. He tried on a smirk, hoping to try and lighten the mood. He was pretty sure he just looked constipated.

“No, dummy, I care about you and want to take care of you,” Steve retorted. He didn’t move an inch, his eyes locked with James’. “Now shut up and let me keep coddling you.”

It was the closest thing Steve had ever admitted to real feelings for James ever since they had struck up this weird friendship. Sure, Steve was open to flirting with him and openly expressed his delight in James. But to hear him admit that he cared for him on a whole other level sent James’ heart fluttering into another tizzy right there in his chest.

No. No losing his head over “what if’s” now. James knew he was falling in love with Steve, but that didn’t mean Steve was falling in love with him in return. He’d simply stated he cared for him. That wasn’t an admittance of affection. And that was more disappointing that James had ever thought it would be.

But maybe he could take advantage of the moment and savor the little bit of romance he felt while he could. Even if it was just for five minutes. He could take the time to assess these new boundaries of their relationship later. Right now was meant for recovering and comfort, and James was going to allow himself to be selfish enough to take advantage of both of those, right there in the warmth of Steve’s arms.

Neither spoke for the longest time. Together, they simply soaked up each other as the afternoon began its long march into evening. By then, James’ panic attack had completely abated, leaving him exhausted and boneless in Steve’s grip. He didn’t want to move, too content to listen to Steve’s heartbeat to even consider moving from that spot. Steve was so warm and so comforting. He seriously could spend the rest of his days lying just like this, and be completely content with his life.

But after a time, James felt a hollow growl in the pit of his gut before his stomach rumbled loudly to life. He flushed dark red, looking down at himself where his belly was pressed up against Steve’s hip, and silently scolded himself for the noise. He’d gone and ruined a perfectly good moment. Perfect. “Sorry,” James muttered when Steve shifted to look down at him. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t disturb me,” Steve chuckled. He did shift, however, and sat up fully. This dislodged James from his chest and it took every ounce of willpower in him not to whine at the loss of Steve’s body heat. “Are you hungry? I can go cook something for you if you want.”

“Don’t you have to start getting ready for tonight?” James asked, though his stomach did whine louder at the thought of food; he blushed dark red at its insistence. Damn it. “I mean, I could eat…”

“Not feeling sick anymore?” Steve asked. He swung his legs from the sofa and stood up, before turning to glance down at James again. “I mean, from earlier.”

James shook his head. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t even feel sick then. I think- I think the stress just got to me,” he mumbled. He twisted the hem of his black undershirt between his good fingers, his prosthetic sitting limp in his lap. “If you want to cook, I’ll eat. I just don’t want you to be late for work tonight.”

Steve paused for a moment, contemplating the statement. After a time, he shrugged a shoulder and glanced at the kitchen. “I got time. I’ll cook for you, make sure you eat, and then go. Okay?”

James couldn’t argue with that. Giving in finally, he nodded up to Steve and turned to curl himself up into the corner of the sofa. He listened as Steve crossed the room and slipped into the kitchen, where the clatter of pans echoed moments later. It felt horribly domestic and wonderful, curling up on the sofa while his companion cooked for him just because he wasn’t feeling well. Once again, his mind flickered back to the couple he’d helped earlier today, and his thoughts began to wander. Was their marriage anything like this? Did one make food for the other when he wasn’t feeling good, or spend hours serving as a human cushion just because he knew it would comfort the other?

It was absurd. Steve was supposed to be his friend. It didn’t matter if James was feeling anything for him; aside from his hollow playing, Steve had expressed no prior interest in James other than friendship. The flirting just came with his personality, James was sure of it. Calling him attractive was just part of the show. James was still too convinced that he wasn’t meant to be with anyone to really consider if perhaps Steve meant any of it. Maybe he did. Most likely, in James’ mind, he didn’t.

Still, it didn’t stop the happy little flutter in the pit of his stomach as he thought of Steve, caring for him and cuddling with him like he was meant to. He really had fallen hard and fast.

James was so caught up in his happy little daydreams of Steve, he barely noticed he had dozed off on the sofa. He was roused from his half slumber, however, by the sound of a plate clicking down onto the coffee table in front of him. He opened his eyes and fought off a yawn to offer Steve a grateful nod. However, when he looked down at the plate set in front of him, he was-

Well, he was confused.

“Steve,” James muttered. He reached out and picked up what appeared to be a grilled cheese sandwich. But the weird part was that there were sprinkles on top of the sandwich. And was the filling of the sandwich… blue? “Uhm, what is this?”

At his side, Steve shifted almost uncomfortably. James looked up to see Steve standing next to the table, wringing his hands together and giving the sandwich a disappointed look. “It’s a grilled cheese.”

“With sprinkles on it?” James asked. He reached out and picked up the sandwich. However, as he did, he saw a dollop of cheese fall from the sandwich onto the plate. This time, that glop of cheese was bright green. His eyes widened as he gripped the sandwich and tore it in half. To his surprise and delight, the cheese stretched and spread between the two halves to show a little rainbow of pastel colored cheese strung between the two halves, bright pink, purple, green and blue. “Steve…”

“I saw it on Facebook. Thought it might cheer you up.” Steve mumbled. He didn’t meet James’ gaze head on, and simply stared at the weird, Technicolor sandwich in his hands. “I have no idea how it tastes, I’ve never made this before. I really hope it’s okay.” Steve shifted on his heels again, before he rubbed the back of his neck. “O-or if you feel like it’s too weird, I can… I can make something else. I’m sorry I just was hoping to cheer you up and rainbows are generally friendly looking and-”

“Steve!” James cut off his friend’s rambling. When Steve finally looked at him, James offered him the brightest smile he could muster. “It’s adorable. I love it, and I’m sure it tastes just fine.”

“You mean that? “Steve asked.

James laughed. He turned back to the sandwich and put one half down on the plate. With a confident look, he lifted the second half and took a bite, feeling the crunch of the rainbow sprinkles beneath his teeth as he chewed. The sandwich didn’t taste any different than a regular grilled cheese, which James was surprised with. The only difference from previous sandwiches was that the sprinkles added the faintest hint of sweetness to the salty, buttery texture that he actually found he quite liked. “It’s good. It really is.”

Steve’s eyes brightened and he shifted again, spine straightening in growing confidence. “Yeah? You don’t think it looks cheesy or anything like that?”

“Well I mean it looks cheesy but I think that’s the point of a grilled cheese,” James teased. He laughed at the off put expression on Steve’s face and he took another bite of his sandwich. “Please don’t tell me I’m eating alone.”

“You’re not. I made a second one for myself, though I probably won’t hesitate to make more. I’m a pig,” Steve laughed. He disappeared from the living room long enough to fetch his own plate, bedecked with an equally colorful sandwich of his own, and sat down next to James with a smile. “Well… eat up then. Let me know if you want more okay?”

James nodded, smiling brighter than ever. He was touched by Steve’s concern and care for him. He’d never had friends that were that comfortable enough to offer James the kind of support and affection that Steve was willing to give. He’d never had friends make him rainbow grilled cheese sandwiches just to cheer him up. He never had friends that let him lay on their laps until his fears abated and left him alone for another day. As much as he knew it was probably not true, he couldn’t help but hold out hope that perhaps Steve liked him in return. Really liked him. Maybe even had feelings for him in return.

He sure hoped that was the case.

But that was a thought process for another time. For now, James wanted nothing more than to eat his rainbow sandwich and press his shoulder into Steve’s side just to feel his warmth. He felt so much better than he had earlier that day, he polished off the food in record time before tentatively asking for a second one. Steve was quick to comply, fetching them both more until they were both stuffed full and contentedly leaned into each other’s side, just to push the negativities of their day as far away as they possibly could.

It was absolute perfection.

* * *

 

The moon cast silvery beams of light across James’ living room floor, illuminating the quiet space around them. After their impromptu dinner of grilled cheese and snacking on a bag of chips between them, Steve and James had tucked themselves right back into the sofa together to relax their evening away. They had settled so thoroughly into one another, their legs tangled together in a mess of limbs until Steve was unsure where one ended and the other began.

It was the most contented Steve had ever been in his life. After the scare of finding James, hunched over on the ground in a mess of tears and sheer terror, Steve had been absolutely beside himself over the Deacon’s wellbeing. He’d left out many of the gory details of James’ panic attack when he’d told him about it, hoping to spare him the shame of having to relive something he didn’t even remember. But when he’d seen James cling to him like a lifeline, babbling incoherent words to him as he pleaded for his help, Steve knew he would make damn sure that James never felt an ounce of pain or fear again in his life if he could help it.

After he’d brought him back from the brink of total mental collapse, and taken him to the safety of his home, Steve had made damn sure he wasn’t going to leave James alone for the rest of that night. He’d made up his mind while cooking dinner, punching out an apology message to his client that he’d have to cancel on him for emergency purposes. He didn’t give details to him; the guy didn’t have reason to know. In Steve’s eyes, taking care of Bucky was emergency enough, and he was going to make sure he put all of his focus on that task.

He hadn’t anticipated on James recovering so quickly. Imagine Steve’s delight when James finally relaxed in his arms, settling right back into the cozy persona he always wore on his sleeve whenever he saw him. Never mind his staunch upbringing or strict career goals. There had always been a level of carefreeness that Steve adored in the other man and he was more than pleased to find that relaxed swagger back in his motions by the time the sun set.

Even still, Steve didn’t want to leave his side that night. Even after James had calmed back down and seemed perfectly capable of watching out for himself the rest of the evening, Steve wanted to stay. He knew he wasn’t exactly being conspicuous about his feelings towards James, but he didn’t really care. He just wanted to spend the whole night with him if he could. If it was under the guise of watching out for his wellbeing, then Steve would gladly use that excuse while he could.

With his mind made up, Steve had settled himself onto the Deacon’s sofa for the evening, happily letting James curl up in his lap as the two of them caught up on television. With full bellies and contented sighs, they tucked themselves into each other for the evening and put the day’s stresses behind them for good to focus on each other.

He expected James to get wise, though he hadn’t anticipated on it taking such little time. Shortly after they had feasted on their confectionary decorated dinner, James had questioned whether or not Steve was going to leave soon to go see his client. It was easy for Steve to come up with an excuse that his client had miraculously ‘bailed’ on him for the evening, leaving him totally free to spend the whole night with him if he wanted. Steve was pretty certain that James knew he was bullshitting him. He was just grateful that he didn’t push him on it.

So they remained happily tucked into one another, grateful for the quiet evening spent between the two of them, without the stress of the world around them. It was blissfully relaxing, having nothing to worry about for the time being. Steve’s stress about saving up for Strucker’s payback aside, he hadn’t felt this peaceful in a very long time, and he only had James to thank for that phenomenon.

After a time, Steve found himself growing bored of the newscast playing across from them, and found himself busying his hands with something else entirely. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon it, but upon finding a little notebook in the drawer, Steve had happily fished it out and plucked up a pen from the side table’s cup holder. He always enjoyed drawing and creating art; ever since he had been a child, he’d wanted to become an artist. But without the money to go to art school, he fell back on using it as a release and a hobby, and happily scrawled into the margins of books and covered pages of notebooks whenever he felt the need.

He had been so enraptured in his drawing, he barely noticed James looking at him. Only when the tips of a gloved prosthetic touched the top of the notebook, did Steve look up at his companion.

“Are you drawing?” James asked.

“Mhm,” Steve said. He glanced down at the page in front of him, and his smile softened. The visage of James stared back at him from the paper, ink lines sketched into the paper in fine strokes. It was an almost photographic depiction of the Deacon in his lap, and he found himself staring happily at the inked eyes that peered back at him from the other side of the art. “Wanna see?”

“Yes please.” James took the notebook from Steve, only to have his eyes widening in shock at the picture that stared back at him. “Holy cow. That’s beautiful! I didn’t know you were an artist!”

“Amateur. But thank you. I only doodle in my spare time,” Steve admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched James admiring the art in front of him with nothing short of awe and delight. He always loved watching that man’s face light up at the simplest pleasures.

“Doodle? This is a masterpiece! You should see the doodles I make, “James laughed. “I’m so bad I can’t even draw stick figures. This is-” James stopped, and shook his head. “This is incredible. You really could become a famous artist. Have you ever considered having your art printed?”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged. “I submitted some art to a magazine a few years ago, but they rejected it. Said it looked too similar to each other when I submitted different portraits and stuff. So I’ve been low-key working on my mediums in between clients.”

“Well, I’m no artist, but I’d be happy to take a look at whatever you draw and give my opinion on them, if you want.” When Steve groaned and laughed at the suggestion, James puffed his chest out and pouted. “What?! You insisted on seeing me dance, I think I should get the same courtesy!”

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughed. He reached out and took the notebook from James before tugging him closer. “Sit here.” With that, he settled James between the cradle of his legs, letting his back press up against his chest as he held the notebook out in front of him. “Since you wanna be a big shot editor for my stuff, take a look at this and tell me what you think it needs.”

James nodded, settling himself back against Steve’s chest comfortably. He wrapped his fingers around the breadth of Steve’s knee and his eyes never left the page as he examined the drawing in front of him.

Silence fell over the two of them as he examined the page with utmost concentration. Steve found himself totally enthralled by the sight of James’ expression, the way his lower lip caught between his teeth as he dutifully stared at the art in front of him. His arms tightened around his waist, and a shiver of something familiar caught in his chest. It was a flutter, like a bird trapped in his ribcage and threatening to break free. He found himself staring openly at James, felt his cheeks heating up. Licked his lower lip.

He really wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“I think I know what it needs,” James said, breaking the silence at long last.

“Yeah?” Steve asked. Damn, did his voice really sound that husky all the time? He wasn’t entirely sure. He couldn’t tear his attention away from James long enough to really think about it.

James nodded. He turned his attention back to the page. He pointed next to the visage of himself, to the open space on the paper, and traced a large oval. “Needs to have you right there. It looks weird just having me on the paper. But I think having you there next to me would be perfect.”

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, _dammit_! Steve stared at James for a long moment, mouth dry, throat tight. He didn’t speak, simply lifting his hand from around his waist to point at the page. “You- you want me right there. At your right?” he croaked finally. The room was way too warm for this. James was way too close to him for this to remain appropriate for long.

James nodded. He looked up at Steve, hovering inches away from him as he smiled. “Yeah. I think that’s totally appropriate, having you right there with me.”

Fuck, he was slipping. He was slipping fast. Weeks ago, and Steve would have been quick to jump all over James and drag him into a kiss. He would have been eager to get his hands all over the figure in his lap, touch wherever he could and get him panting and begging for more. Now? Now he wanted nothing more than to press gentle kisses into his skin, and simply worship him. He didn’t want to use James. He wanted to _cherish_ him.

He remained caught up in his thoughts for so long, it took James touching his arm to draw him back to the present. Steve blinked, focusing in on worried grey-blue eyes for a moment before he licked his lips again. “I think that’s a good idea.” Steve said. He reached out, touching the notebook in James’ hand. His fingers slipped down the page towards his thumb, where he let his index finger dance along the digit for a long moment.

That drew a gasp out of James, and Steve found his lungs seizing up in shock at the sound. It was more erotic and arousing than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. A simple touch, and James’ eyes had locked onto his, pupils widening in surprise and confused want as the two of them stared at each other, bereft of words and hovering on the precipice of a whole new level of their relationship.

 _‘God, please don’t hate me’_ Steve thought to himself in mild panic. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He wanted James too much to let him continue to dance just outside the boundaries of his desires for him. He wanted to be with him. He _had_ to worship that beautiful, broken man in his arms. _‘I’m a horrible, sinning man…’_

Unable to hold back a moment longer, Steve wrapped his fingers around James’ hand. He laced their fingers together, warm skin against skin, and gave his hand a squeeze. The notebook fell to the floor next to the sofa, but Steve paid no mind to that. James was watching him, drawn in by the sudden, tender touches. Like hell was he going to leave him hanging for long.

“Stop me if you- if you don’t want this,” Steve breathed. With that, he gently twisted James in his lap, pulling him closer until they were nose to nose. Then, with a shiver of anticipation, Steve leaned in, his eyes drifting shut.

It was a feather brush, lips touching in the faintest embrace; so faint in fact, Steve could barely feel it. But it was the most intense feeling he’d ever felt in his whole life. His lungs seized up, breath escaping in a shaky puff, before he leaned in again. This time, the kiss was a little more insistent, a little more firm as his fingers dug into his companion’s knuckles just barely. Without thinking, Steve tugged on James’ lower lip, his own firm and smooth as he suckled on the flesh between them. It was a brief moment, really, but to Steve it felt like a lifetime’s worth of affection poured into one, gentle touch.

Breathing through his nose, Steve released his friend’s hand, only to reach up and cup the back of his head. He threaded his fingers into the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck, giving them a faint tug before he carefully placed his palm over the elegant arch of his neck, and held him steady. James didn’t move once. Not to pull away, not to protest.

But worryingly enough, not to follow suit with his kiss either.

After a moment, Steve pulled back from the kiss. He pressed his forehead to James’ for a moment, tearing his eyes open to look at him long and hard. James was staring at him, totally struck dumb by the action. The silence was deafening as they breathed together, never once inching out of the other’s touch.

At long last, Steve spoke up, his heart clenching in worry as he waited for any sort of reaction from James. “Was that too much… I’m sorry I- I mean I shouldn’t have-” He stopped, and took a breath to relax. “Did you not want me to do that?”

“Actually… yes, I did,” James murmured. A high flush colored the apples of his cheeks as he watched Steve carefully. “I just didn’t know how to react. Or what to do. I’ve never kissed anyone like that before.” He paused, having the decency to look embarrassed. “I was afraid I was going to mess it up.”

Steve blinked. A rush of adrenaline left him and he slumped, uttering a small laugh as he watched his companion. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I can show you how. If you want to kiss me back, that is.”

“I do,” James whispered. “I really, _really_ do.”

Steve beamed. His eyes darted down to the swell of James’ lower lip before he licked his own again. His eyes darkened with an obvious want, and he tugged James closer to himself. “Then, I’ll ask. Can I touch you…” he paused, letting his hand drift up and up. He thumbed over James’ lower lip, tracing the skin for a moment before he grinned. “Can I touch you here?”

James shivered visibly. He leaned forward, into the touch of Steve’s fingers, and his eyes drifted shut. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue out, boldly feeling out if this was inappropriate as he let the tip of his tongue trace over the edge of Steve’s index finger. “Yes. If you’ll show me how.”

That was all the invitation he needed. His heart hammered to life in his chest as Steve watched that sinful, red tongue dart out and brush across his finger. He could barely contain his glee as he looked up at James, memorized the way his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks as his eyes closed. Without hesitation, Steve leaned in and replaced his finger with his lips, covering the other’s mouth with his own.

With permission given to him, Steve wasted no breath as he pulled James closer to himself. His teeth bared for just a moment as he oh so gently bit down on the flesh of James’ lower lip. He was certain it was probably a little soon for that much, but the delighted gasp that left him at the touch was all the confirmation he needed to keep going.

It seemed that James was an incredibly quick study. It only took a few moments of Steve’s guidance before James was following his lead. He tilted his head, twisting himself in his lap to gain better access to those lips teasing him. He reached up in kind, cupping his flesh fingers around the back of Steve’s neck in return as he pulled him closer to himself. His own tongue darted out again, brushing across the seam of Steve’s teeth, just like the blond had done to him, and darted forward, when Steve gave him access.

It was thrilling, feeling James opening up so quickly to him. Steve could barely control his smile as he felt the brunet push onward, seeking out more of the warm, wet recesses of his mouth. Steve followed suit, his own tongue slipping past and exploring the Deacon’s mouth with abandon.

Steve had never felt anything so incredible in his life. James was warmth and sweetness, tenderness and curiosity, all rolled into a palpable physical entity that Steve could actually savor and ravish if he so chose to. But he held back, at least a bit. He held back as he let the two of them explore one another for the first time.

Steve had never had feelings for anyone like this. He’d had his crushes. He’d had a handful of failed relationships. But with this one moment, the intensity growing in what should have been exploratory kisses, Steve knew he was well and truly done for. He’d fallen totally, and irreplaceably in love with James.

Breathing through his nose, Steve delved deeper. He tugged on James’ waist, uprooting him from the sofa and tugging him closer. He felt James twist in his lap, breaking the kiss long enough to guide James to straddle his waist more comfortably, before leaning back in to capture his lips again. With his hands free now, he framed his large palms over the Deacon’s hips, holding him close as he dragged him further into the kiss.

Above him, James gasped for breath, taken by surprise by his actions. Steve pulled back long enough to check and make sure he hadn’t done anything to upset the other; his eyes darted over his face as he took in the confused, but interested expression on his face. “You okay?” Steve asked. Christ, he adored the way he looked, his lips kiss-swollen and damp with spit. He loved how James looked so flustered, his hair framing a face that was flushed the most delicate pink, his chest rising and falling in short, excited breaths. He was the picture of beauty, straddling his waist and looking so, so eager to learn more of what it was like to pleasure and be pleased.

James nodded. He licked his swollen lower lip before meeting Steve’s gaze again. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just-” he stopped, before a look of embarrassment crossed his face. “I think… you’re affecting me.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant. Blinking in confusion, he glanced at James for a moment before the faintest roll of James’ hips caught his attention. He glanced down, only to find himself stunned at what he saw. James’ undershirt had been pulled up just slightly, baring a strip of skin on his belly. Below the shirt, his black slacks were tented out, pushed into his own lap by the presence of what Steve could only believe was James’ first real erection in many, many years of living. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“It’s okay,” he chuckled. Looking back into James’ eyes, Steve offered him a reassuring smile. “Are you uncomfortable? We can stop if you don’t want to keep going…”

“No. Don’t stop,” James pleaded. He shivered in Steve’s grip for a moment before his hand shifted. He moved his grip from the blond’s shoulder to where Steve’s fingers were wrapped around his hip, and he pressed his palm against his knuckles. “Don’t stop…”

Steve watched, fascinated by the display of curiosity. He allowed James to hold his hand to his hip, and he flexed his fingers experimentally. When James shuddered at the touch, obviously intrigued and pleased by the sensation, Steve allowed himself a moment to explore. He allowed his fingers to trace over the swell of his hipbone, feeling its firmness through the fabric of his slacks, before pushing his hand up his side.

He watched James’ reaction as his fingers drifted up and up his side. When he reached his chest, Steve allowed his fingertips to trace over the Deacon’s right pectoral; while it wasn’t as well defined as his own, the muscle was firm beneath his fingertips, and he found himself totally entranced by its tension.

With a sigh of contentment, Steve allowed his fingers to trace over the muscle for a moment, before his index finger found the pert nub of his nipple. He fought back a grin as he traced the pad of his finger over it, feeling it shift beneath the pressure of his finger before flicking back into place. When James jumped in his lap and uttered a broken sound, Steve couldn’t help the groan of delight as he continued to trace around the swelling bud of flesh beneath the shirt. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Steve breathed.

“S-Steve… oh…” James gasped. By now, he was squirming in Steve’s lap, his fingertips digging into the blond’s left bicep as he bucked his hips in uncoordinated ruts. “Steve. I don’t- I don’t know what to do!”

Steve tore his gaze away from the deacon’s chest. He looked up at him only to find himself amazed to see the brunet’s eyes were hooded, pupils dilated viciously, and his lips parted in a perpetual “oh”. Steve watched, thrilled to see his friend looking so willing and pliant beneath him, eager for more and pleading for guidance. And _damn_ right would he give it.

“Here,” Steve whispered. He reached down, gripping the prosthetic by the wrist. He lifted the false arm from where it dangled helplessly at James’ side and settled the weight of it on his right shoulder. With that done, he turned his attention to James’ free hand. Wrapping his fingers around his wrist, he pulled the deacon’s hand from his bicep, and pressed his palm to his own chest. “Just… do what feels natural. Touch wherever you want to. Trust me, you’re not gonna do anything I won’t like.”

James shivered, though he nodded through the stilted gesture. His fingers flexed slightly before they began to trace over the swell of Steve’s chest. He quickly found the blond’s nipple in kind, running his thumb over the bud of flesh curiously, before pinching it. It was a weak pinch, but there nonetheless, and Steve was totally taken off guard by the touch.

“Shit!” Steve gasped. He bucked up at the touch, feeling the grind of James’ hips against his own. His own fingers worked a little more insistently over the Deacon’s chest, returning the gesture as he twirled James’ nipple between his fingertips. Without missing a beat, he leaned in, tugging James back into another kiss. This one was the most eager, most demanding of them all, and he found himself unable to help it as he nipped, sucked and claimed that warm, virgin mouth for himself.

James leaned in. He made no effort to stop Steve as he pressed into the kiss himself. His own nips were weaker, not as certain, but no less eager as his hips unconsciously rocked down against Steve’s lap with a cracked moan of delight.

It didn’t take long before the two of them were offering tiny, aborted rolls of their hips, one against the other. Instinct, it seemed, had taken over for James as his hips rolled down against his lap to grind the length of his cock against Steve. But as much as Steve wanted to allow James to continue rutting up against him like that, he worked his hand free and gripped his hips, slowing his motions down to a more sedate beat. Despite his own wants, Steve wanted to make sure to keep that action as innocent as he possibly could manage. This was all new territory for James; he wasn’t about to ruin his one chance at sparking a real relationship with him by pushing him too far and having James do something to scare himself away.

He was already breaking every rule in the Good Book, allowing James to ride his lap like this. A priest and a sex worker just simply weren’t meant to have a long, fruitful relationship together. Steve knew that. He knew James knew that. But did it seem like they were going to milk this unconventional friendship for all it was worth? Fuck yes. If James wanted to continue pursuing his own sexual curiosity, then Steve was going to give it his all to make him as happy as he possibly could. He cared about James too much to do anything less.

However, it seemed their exploration would finally come to an end that night. Just as Steve’s fingers moved from his hip to grip the hem of James’ undershirt and divest him of the offending cloth, his phone rang insistently on the table next to them. Steve tried his best to ignore it, he really did. But it struck him as odd. This wasn’t the ringtone he used for his clients. Whoever this was, they were sorely interrupting a very important moment here.

Blinking in irritation, Steve tore himself away from James’ kisses to glance down at the phone. It went to voicemail at that moment, but within seconds began to ring again. He wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he’d never heard a ringtone sound so demanding before in his life.

Frowning heavily, Steve bent over and stared at the phone. He didn’t recognize the number at all; but when the phone began to ring for a third time, bypassing the voicemail again, Steve knew something was wrong. Reluctantly, he withdrew from the kisses, apologizing to James before he reached out and plucked the phone up.

However, before he could answer it, the phone went silent again. He had just prepared to open up the phone and call the number back, when a text message flashed up on the screen.

The minute Steve read it, his blood turned to ice.

**XXX [10:43pm] ur reprieve is up. Pay up by the hotel you screwed me over at, or we’re gonna have serious problems.**

Steve swallowed, feeling like someone had punched him in the gut. Shit. How the fuck had Strucker gotten his number?! Panic swallowed him whole as he stared at the message in front of him, fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room.

He’d fucked up. He was still short almost 300 dollars of the five thosand he’d stolen from Strucker, and the worst of it was, the client he’d cancelled on that night would have covered the difference of what he owed. But he’d given that up to spend the evening with James, because apparently making out with him when he had a life or death situation hanging over his head had been more important than saving his own skin for James. If he’d known that Strucker was back in town...

“Steve?” James’ voice cut through the silence. He looked up to see the Deacon offering him a worried look. “What’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.”

Steve shook his head. Quietly, he dislodged James from his lap and settled the confused brunet on the sofa next to him. “I’m fine. Just- just business I have to go take care of. It’s real important.”

“That doesn’t look like a business face to me,” James prodded. He sat quietly, looking only slightly, adorably rumpled now as he regarded Steve with obvious worry on his aroused features. Dammit, Steve wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that right now! He was short the money he owed Strucker for God’s sake! There was going to be serious hell to pay, and here he was, admiring how cute James looked when he was turned on. His priorities were so fucked.

“It’s fine. Just trust me okay?” Steve got up from the sofa, and glanced down at James to offer him what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I gotta go though. Okay? I’ll see you later though, if you want?”

“Of course,” James said, though his expression wasn’t the least bit convinced. “Steve are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve nodded again. Hoping to calm James down, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, lingering a beat longer than necessary. When he pulled away, he patted James’ cheek gently, thumbing over the cheekbone in a tender stroke. “I’ll be fine. Really. Just… you had a long day. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” James sighed. He leaned back into the sofa, watching Steve carefully as the blond shrugged into his jacket. “Are you in trouble, Steve?”

Steve paused, halfway into his jacket. He looked down at James, hesitating. By the time he found his tongue again, James’ eyes had narrowed suspiciously, and he sighed. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Steve turned away from James, hoping to end the conversation there. He was lucky, as he strode across the room. James hadn’t spoken another word after his final statement. Hadn’t protested. Hadn’t tried to stop him from going.

He was lucky, but he hated the fact that he had to walk away from him more than anything he’d ever hated in his life.

* * *

 

 

It was almost midnight by the time Steve found himself at the back alley of this damn, fucking hotel once again. He’d had to stop off at his apartment to get the money he’d collected, leaving him late by almost 15 minutes for his meeting with this bastard. Great, short on his money and late for their meeting. It was like Steve was begging to get shot.

The roll felt unnaturally light in his pocket; it was exactly 283 dollars short of five grand. He knew, because he’d double and triple counted it himself. It didn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but Steve had no idea how Strucker would react. Would he simply take the money he had and leave him alone, or would he get bent out of shape by the missing dollars?

Steve’s money was on the latter. Strucker seemed like that kind of asshole.

In the alley, Steve paced, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he waited for Strucker and Rollins to show their ugly faces. Anger gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he waited for their arrival, and he cast glances over his shoulder every so often just to make sure he wouldn’t get jumped at any point. They seemed like the kind of people that would do that.

After almost twenty minutes, Steve felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He just wanted to get this over with! He was already late himself, so what was the point of their delay? No, that was a stupid question. Steve knew what that was about. He was late, so now those fuckers were just toying with him, making him sweat out this meeting. Sometimes he really couldn’t fathom how much of an asshole this guy was.

Before he could withdraw his cell phone from his pocket, the sound of footsteps caught his attention; he looked up to the mouth of the alley where he saw a small group of men standing, and his cheeks flushed in fury.

At the forefront of the group, Strucker stood proud, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a cap over his bald head, and a cigarette hung from between his lips as he sneered at Steve from his vantage point. “Mr. Rogers, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Well, it’s a pleasure for me. I’m not so sure about you, to be honest.”

Steve leveled a glare at him, his shoulders squared off as he faced the man. “Strucker. Can’t say I’m too thrilled to see you. You back from tormenting Detroit all over again? I’m sure you’ve made a name for yourself over there. Drug rings spread across the states now, right?”

Strucker smirked, flicking ashes from his cigarette onto the ground. “Even in the face of uncertainty, you have a mouth on you, Dumbfuck. Running those pretty lips of yours is gonna cost you dearly someday. Might wanna keep that in mind.”

Steve wanted to protest, but Strucker had a point. He wasn’t exactly in a position to make cracks like this. For the sake of going home alive to his friend, Steve decided to do the wise thing and shut his trap.

“Good boy. I hear you like getting called that in bed sometimes. Must be so sweet,” Strucker laughed. Snapping his fingers, he gestured for one of his goons to step forward. “Hope you got the money, Rogers. Don’t mind if we count it while you’re here, just to make sure, eh?”

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the roll of money, handing it to the goon. He watched with growing apprehension as the lunkhead took the roll over to Rollins and passed it over to him with a grunt. Shit. They were really going to check and make sure every fucking cent was there. He was fucked.

Tension stretched across the alley as Rollins began to count the money out loud. With each thousand he rattled off, Steve felt his jaw ticking nervously, and his fists tightened at his sides. When Rollins passed 4 thousand dollars, Steve fought the urge to turn in the other direction and flee. He would stand up for his mistake. He had to. He wasn’t a coward that ran from a fight, ever in his life. He wouldn’t’ start now. Besides, there was no telling what Strucker would do if he didn’t play by his rules.

“$4,717”, Rollins finished. He held the wad up in Steve’s direction, his lips cracking into a vicious smile. “This don’t look like five thousand dollars to me, prick.”

Steve swallowed. He looked between Rollins and Strucker for a moment, his heart hammering slightly in his chest. “There were-” he stopped, looking down at his hands. “Complications. Ran into a client that didn’t pay up. I’m real close to getting the last of it though…”

 _‘Don’t fuckin’ snap. Don’t push them,_ ’ he thought to himself desperately. _‘You’re on their game now. Don’t fuckin’ say anything to get your dumb ass shot…’_

Strucker stared at the wad of money for a moment before heaving a disappointed sigh. He reached out and took the money from Rollins, before pocketing it. “I understand, Steve. Times are tough. Sometimes we can’t always follow through on our promises. It’s life.”

Steve blinked. He looked up at Strucker, doubt heavy in his chest. It didn’t seem right that he’d be so accepting of his mistake. He kept his eyes trained on Strucker, his feet shifting beneath him. He wouldn’t run, but with the very real threat of his goons getting the beat down on him, and the fact that he now had James waiting for him, anticipating him to come back in one piece, Steve couldn’t risk pissing them off. Besides, he had no idea if Strucker or Rollins were packing, and he was sorely under equipped for standing up to gunfire.

The seconds dragged by. After a time, Strucker gestured to his goons, urging them forward. He too, stepped up to Steve, his cronies flanking him on either side as he met his gaze. The tension between the two was so high, one could cut it with a knife. No one spoke, no one breathed.

Then, without a word, Strucker gestured to his men. Their hands shot out before Steve could react, grabbing him by the arms. With a swift motion, Strucker reeled back, slamming his fist right into the pit of Steve’s stomach as hard as he possibly could, a whip crack of knuckles against his gut that had him doubling up instantly.

Steve gasped. Would have screamed if he had the breath in his lungs to do so. Instead, he wheezed viciously, held up only by the gorilla hands wrapped around his biceps. He gagged, choking on a throat-ful of bile before he spat onto the ground, urging himself not to embarrass himself by puking from the force of Strucker’s punch. He inhaled slowly, fighting against the pain in his gut as he stood bent over, on shaky legs. After a long, painful beat, he tore his gaze away from the ground and met Strucker’s piercing look, defiant as he possibly could be.

“I believe in second chances, Steve. I really do,” Strucker muttered. He chuckled, balling his fist up. This time his knuckles collided with his cheek, snapping Steve’s head to the side as he laughed, proud and certain. “Which is why I want you to pay me double what you owed me. Another five thousand to make up for the fact that you can’t not fuck anything up. I’ll be nice; last time you had three weeks to get it. I’d give you a week to manage it, but that’s even cruel for me. So how about in two weeks, you get me another five thousand, in full, and we’ll be square. Capische?”

Steve groaned, shaking his head from the disorientation. Another five thousand dollars? In two weeks? He’d barely made what he had the first time in three! “F-fuck you,” he gasped, shooting the other man a glare.

That proved to be a mistake. The minute the words left him, Strucker had his fingers on his jaw, gripping tight enough to leave bruises on his jaw. He twisted Steve’s head up to meet his gaze again, his own eyes burning hot with indignation and fury. “I’d watch your fuckin’ tone, shithead. You fucked me over. Not the other way around!” Letting go of Steve’s jaw, Strucker stepped back, only to fish into his pocket again. He withdrew his phone, tapping on the screen a couple times before his expression brightened into a winning smirk.

“You might want to take this offer, Rogers. Trust me when I say I’m fair. So it’s either five grand in two weeks… or his life.” He paused, turning the phone screen on Steve to show him the picture on the device.

It was a picture of James.

Steve gaped, his heart slamming to a halt in his chest. The screen showed James, the young Deacon gazing down at his own phone with a small smile on his lips. The photo had been snapped candidly, from what looked like across a street. James clearly had no idea his picture had been snapped.

He inhaled, trembling violently at the realization; Strucker found out about James and was using him as collateral against Steve. He really was a new breed of bastard. “You asshole,” Steve gasped, looking up at Strucker.

Strucker simply shrugged. He pulled the phone back, swiping to a new picture and showing it to Steve. This time, it was a picture of the two of them. They were on James’ front stoop, and Steve was pressing a kiss to the Deacon’s cheek. Steve remembered that night vividly. Fuck, he’d had no idea anyone was watching them.

“He seems like a sweet guy, Steve. You really sure you want to test me? I try not to take my anger out on the innocent if I can, but I’ll be honest. I’ve had a real interest in trying out a few new toys I picked up in Detroit, and he’s got a pretty set of lips I’d like to acquaint with a brand new pair of knuckles.” Strucker stepped back, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and withdrew a second cigarette. “He just seems like the kinda guy that screams ‘martyr’ to me, eh? Plus, I’m pretty sure he he’d look twice as cute with a bullet between the eyes, no? Or a busted face. I hate kicking in faces, Steve, I really do. The blood’s impossible to get out of leather, but for him? I think I’d happily make an exception.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch him!” Steve spat. He straightened up as much as he could, his eyes wild with panic. “Please don’t! I’m fuckin’ beggin’ you please don’t hurt him.”

The silence stretched on. Strucker stared into Steve’s eyes, piercing into his very soul for a breath, before a smile lit his features. “You know I actually believe you care about him. And I’m a sucker for romance stories, to be honest.” Flicking his cigarette ashes right by Steve’s face, Strucker bent down level with him “I make you my promise, Steve. No one lays a finger on him for two weeks. But if I don’t see my money by then, well, I’ll make sure you get a front row seat for his beat down. Fair?”

Steve didn’t answer him. Quick as a flash, Strucker’s hand shot out and tightened in Steve’s hair until he was yanking his hair by the roots. He held his head still, leaning in to breathe rancid, smoke and beer laced breath across his face. “I said… is that fair, Steve?”

Steve tore his face away from him as much as he could despite the pain in his scalp. He twisted his eyes shut, trying to rip his head out of his grip before he finally nodded. “Yes, it’s fair!” he growled.

Strucker laughed, finally releasing him from his clutches. “Good! I’m glad we’re on the same page!” Dusting his hands off, Strucker gestured to his cronies to let Steve go. He turned away before Steve could collapse and returned to Rollins’ side, flicking his cigarette ashes out. “Clock starts now, big boy. If you wanna protect your little boyfriend, get goin’. I want every single penny of that five grand in my hands by this time, two weeks from now. No less. Or it’s bye-bye James.”

The whole lot of them laughed like fucking hyenas before taking their leave. As the group of them stepped out of the alleyway, Strucker turned back to offer Steve one last quip. “It’s a shame, really. You two make a cute couple. Would be a shame for him to lose his pretty face because of you.”

Steve huffed, fighting to keep his frustrated tears at bay. He knelt on the dirty ground of the alleyway, watching as Strucker and his men finally departed, leaving him alone to this horrible fate. He felt sick. He felt filthy. He’d jeopardized James’ safety, and it had all been his fault. From the very beginning, Steve only had himself to blame for this mess.

Steve was so caught up in his inner turmoil, he didn’t notice the tears in his eyes finally escape him. It took him a moment to realize it, but when he brushed his fingers over his face, he hissed at the sting his cheek left him. Shit. Strucker had probably fractured his cheekbone. He was pretty sure his gut had also been bruised by the impact. There was no way he was going to go back to James’ apartment, looking like this.

He didn’t need to let James know what had happened. It wasn’t fair to him to have to worry about that.

Quite suddenly, Steve knew what he had to do. As much as he cared about James, he knew for the next two weeks he had to be totally vigilant on his task. Save the money. Pay Strucker back. Save James’ life.

But that also meant having to abandon James for the next two weeks. Steve knew, logically, if he went and saw James, he’d totally distract himself from his task. He’d already done that this night. If he hadn’t decided to spend the evening with James, he would have gotten the last of his payback and none of this would have happened.

Frustrated, exhausted and sore, Steve clambered to his feet and stumbled out of the alley. He had to go home. There was no way he was going to perform well that night and get his pay. Not in this instance. He’d just have to work overtime tomorrow, and focus on that for the rest of these two weeks. That could be easy enough.

At least he loved his job.

As Steve wandered home for the evening, he glanced down at his phone and James’ contact card sadly. He was going to miss him terribly for the next two weeks. But if it saved his life, then so be it. It was what he had to do. No questions asked.

 _‘Please don’t be mad at me, Buck,’_ he thought to himself miserably. _‘It’s for your own good…’_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn coming in the next chapter. All the porn. Enjoy the upcoming, virgin popping porn. ;) You won't be sorry.


	5. Pillar Of Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two weeks, Steve confronts James about why he chose to abandon him. Their confrontation results in what could only be described as a "Heavenly" conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay got another chapter up for you guys! Sorry it took me a little longer than I thought, but things got weird at the homefront and I couldn't sit down and write as much as I wanted to.
> 
> Anyway, new chapter update! And things finally get heated between the two of them. I'm super excited to get this update up for you guys, since I think you're all really really REALLy gonna enjoy it ;)
> 
> Trigger warning for the talk of STD's in this chapter. It's fairly brief, but something that needed to be addressed for realism's sake. Also if you're not in it for the smut, the last half of the chapter is pretty much a sex scene involving someone losing their virginity. So there will be talk of a character being embarrassed when he climaxes, does something "weird" bodily wise, bodily fluids, etc. I tried to go about it as realistically as possible, while still making it intimate so hopefully I succeeded.
> 
> Note, it's all completely consensual, I'm just warning that there may be an instance of second hand embarrassment for the readers, just so you know ahead of time. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter and leave feedback. Feedback is always appreciated!!!

**JB [9:54 am] Steve. I don’t know what happened last night or if everything is okay. I just wanted to check and make sure you are well and nothing serious has happened. Please text me or call me back? :)**

**JB [3:22 pm] Okay, I’ll try again. Maybe you were sleeping in for a client tonight and didn’t see my text. I just wanted to make sure you are okay and everything is fine. Text me back so I know you’re well.**

_**1 day later** _

**JB [11:51 am] I tried calling your phone this morning to see if you were alright from the other night. It went straight to voicemail so you’re probably asleep again. I’m just getting a little concerned. Did you get in a fight with a client?**

**JB [12:09pm] I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house. The new episode of Law and Order is on tonight and I really don't want to miss out on where they left off last week. I’ll cook dinner for you if you want :)**

**JB [6:39pm] Okay, guess you’re busy today. Just take care and make sure you eat before work tonight. Remember the last time you didn’t you got crabby with a client and I don’t feel like listening to the sob story lol**

_**2 days later** _

**JB [12:17pm] Alright, that’s it, I’m getting really worried that something has happened to you. I’m not even sure if you’re getting my text messages and none of my calls are going through. Please at least send me a one word message that you’re alive. At the very least. I don’t want to have to send a search party out for you.**

**SR [1:55pm] Don’t send a search party out for me, I’m alive**

**JB [1:56pm] Oh Thank God. You were starting to scare me, Steve! What happened, why did you disappear like that? Are you alright?**

**JB [4:17pm] Okay, so did you go back to sleep again? I didn’t think you were that booked up with clients lately. I guess just call me when you’re done being tied up.**

_**One week later** _

**JB [7:14pm] Alright, this is getting really bothersome. I’m getting worried again. I’ve tried calling you multiple times and they all go to voicemail. I got one line text message out of you and then nothing. What’s going on? Did you get hurt? Did you get into it with a client? For God’s sake, did you have to pack up and leave New York? I just want to know what’s going on and why you’re suddenly so distant, Steve.**

**JB [9:54pm] I’m starting to feel like you’re actively avoiding me and I don’t know why. If this has nothing to do with a client, then why are you refusing to talk to me? It’s been over a week, and you just disappeared into thin air. If you have something you’re avoiding telling me, I would prefer it if you said it to my face. Or at LEAST through a text message so I know what you’re thinking.**

**JB [11:55pm] I’m going to bed, Steve. I have class in te morning so if you try and call me back, I probbaly wont answer it. I’m just terified now. Are you hurt? Are you mad at me? Did you have to leve the darn country? i just want to know okay?**

**JB [** _ **Saved as Draft]**_ **Or ifyou don’t want to be my friend anymore, then just come out and say it. THis ignoring stuff isnt working forme anymore. I guess I knew my first real kiss would turn out terrible after all. So im sorry. Jus let me know yor okay and ill stop textign you so much.**

* * *

  


James groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose carefully. He tried his best to focus on the whiteboard at the front of the room, but the numbers and letters were all beginning to swirl together, much like the contents of his stomach.

Hangovers. He’d really only ever gotten them twice before in his life, but he remembered the other two quite vividly. This one was probably the worst out of the three of them, and he was really beginning to regret not calling in sick to class.

He’d done this to himself, really. He was a whiskey drinker by trade, but when he was stressed or upset, James had a tendency to reach for vodka to still his thoughts. Thank God, his phone had hit a network hiccup and refused to send his last text the night before. He probably would have never lived down the regret if he’d actually sent that final message to Steve.

James scoffed, rubbing his eye again. Steve. Of _course_ he’d think about him at that moment. He’d never really had much reason to obsess over relationships in his lifetime, but this… this was definitely something that was eating a hole in his gut. A hole enough, that he’d downed far too many shots of vodka and sent a multitude of weepy text messages to his friend like some lovesick teenager.

Okay, so maybe he had a reason to be upset. Steve had kissed him, and skipped town. Steve had gotten him to throw down the mantle of his vocation for a few minutes and stole away some of his innocence. He was going to be a darn priest, and he’d allowed his friend to touch and kiss him, fondle and draw him closer to the edge of temptation than he’d ever been in his entire life.

But James was not mad at Steve. No, James was hurt. James was upset and saddened by the thought that maybe Steve had mistaken him for one of his usual partners and came up disappointed in him. It was really the only explanation James had; Steve probably had developed some sort of crush on him, mistaking him for a man _worth_ fawning over and then when he had realized just how virginal James really was, Steve had fled without a word. James never should have allowed himself to fall for him. It went against his entire code of ethics. It went against his future career!

Not a mention, getting dumped by someone he cared so much for just hurt like hell.

James’ stomach turned again, though he was 98% sure it was just from his heartbreak, and not the actual need to vomit. Though that other 2% was still a definite possibility and he wasn't about to embarrass himself by puking in the corner of the room; with that thought in mind, he quietly slipped out the back door of the classroom to make a quick dash for the washroom. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of air conditioning, and his stomach relaxed marginally. Okay. Maybe he wasn't going to throw up after all. He certainly wasn't going to complain about that.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, James leaned against the wall outside the men’s room, letting his head fall back against the wall as he stared at the ceiling for a long moment. ‘ _This whole day is just terrible,’_ he thought to himself miserably. Why, oh why, hadn't he called in sick that day...

“Reverend Barnes?”

James blinked, tearing his gaze away from the ceiling. When he did, he saw his Diaconate watching him from the other end of the hallway. James offered up a weak smile and waved his hand at him. “Hello, Father Greg.”

“Are you alright, son?” Father Greg asked. He crossed the hall and leaned back against the wall next to James. “You really don’t look well.”

James shrugged, tearing his gaze away from the older man. “Dunno. Just woke up feeling unwell I guess. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“You’re rather pale, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s that darn flu that’s going around,” Father Greg supplied. He sidled up to James and looked down at him. “Either that, or something else is bothering you. You’ve seemed rather distant this whole week.”

Again, James shrugged, though this time he felt his cheeks heating up just a bit. He didn’t look up at Father Greg this time, simply keeping his gaze locked on the far wall. “I’ve seemed distant?”

Father Greg nodded. “Indeed. Ever since the uhm- incident with Father Lichtenhauer.” At that, the two of them went quiet again, simply sharing the cool wall for support. After a time, Father Greg cleared his throat. “If you are concerned about Father Lichtenhauer’s threats, don’t worry. I’ve swept the incident under the rug. I know you were simply trying to do what you thought was right for the man, despite protocols. You won’t be in any sort of trouble, if that’s what’s bothering you so much.”

James laughed, a short and unamused sound. “No, Father, that’s not what it is.”

Father Greg nodded. He looked away from James and placed a hand on his shoulder in a comforting touch. “I also heard that Mr. Wellick passed away while you were there. I know how- how sensitive that topic is for you at this time, James and I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you were not terribly affected by it.”

James didn’t answer him. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the floor as a sting of frustration took hold of him. Sorry’s and apologies. That’s all he ever got from people anymore. I’m sorry you lost your family when you were so young. I’m sorry you had to deal with what you did. I’m sorry you’re a cripple. James constantly received apologies from everyone he ran into, the church included. What empty condolences they all were. It wasn’t like anyone really meant it.

‘ _Steve meant it…’_

“Well,” James muttered. “As you can see, I’m still here. So I suppose it turned out okay after all.” He didn’t speak again for a long time, simply allowing the quiet to lull him into comfort. As much as he hated the empty apologies he received from others, he couldn’t help but feel a little better in Father Greg’s presence. The man always did have a comforting aura around him.

“I see that. And I’m glad to see that you're alright.” Father Greg finally stepped away from the wall and turned to James. “James, why don’t you go home? You really don’t look well at all, and if you're coming down with a virus, you may want to rest as much as you can. No use in getting sick needlessly.”

“But, I haven’t even been here an hour yet,” James protested. He stepped away from the wall, hating having to remove himself from the comforting touch of the cool surface.

“It’s alright. I’ll inform your counselor that you took a sick day today.” Father Greg stepped away from James and motioned to the classroom. “Go get your things and go home.”

“Is that you saying I really look like garbage?” James offered, hoping to add a little humor to the situation.

“Indeed that's exactly what I’m saying.”

James chuckled a little and crossed the hall to enter the classroom. It was a good thing he didn’t have many classes for the day. He could quietly grab his things and slip out the back without making too much of a fuss. He hated the idea of disturbing the others, simply because he wasn’t feeling well ‘ _Never drinking vodka again…’_ he thought to himself in disgust.

However, before he could enter the room, he heard his Diaconate’s voice cut in again.

“James, is there anything else that's bothering you lately?” James looked up to see the older man offering him a genuinely concerned look. “Besides the Wellick incident? Anyone you know giving you a hard time, or anything like that? I can’t help but feel like there’s something that’s on your mind.” Father Greg offered him a plaintive little gesture. “I can’t force you to talk to me, but… you know you can come to me for guidance whenever you need to, right?”

James didn’t speak. His mouth dried up at those words and he felt his heart hammer just a little harder in his ribcage. However, he shook his head and smiled through the internal panic. “Uhm, no. Nothing is bothering me, Father.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m positive,” James said. He nodded, hoping to displace the man’s suspicions right then and there. There was absolutely no way he was going to talk to him about Steve. Because that meant having to admit his friendship with a sex worker or the fact that he’d kissed him. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what could happen to Steve if anyone unsavory found out what he did for a living. He knew what would happen to Steve if anyone found out James had willingly tumbled into his arms.

Luckily, his earnest smile seemed to displace Father Greg’s uncertainty for good. The man relaxed and smiled back. “Well, good then. Now go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you in class Friday morning.”

“Yes, Father,” James replied. He watched the man go before finally allowing himself a chance to relax. With a sigh, he turned and slipped into the classroom, gathering his textbooks up and slipping back out to the hall. He felt rather guilty about taking the extra day off; he really should have been honest with Father Greg about his wellbeing. He’d gotten upset and drank himself into bed. He’d allowed himself to let another man control his emotions, and now he was paying the price for it. He really didn't deserve the promise of painkillers and a really long nap (though to be honest, he _really_ wasn't complaining in the slightest).

With that, James left the building, taking the long walk home. After a tiring trip through the days warmest sunlight, he finally slumped into his house and tossed his textbooks onto the counter before fishing through his medicine cabinet. He didn’t even bother to take off his prosthetic as he swallowed down two Tylenol and collapsed onto the sofa with a groan of defeat. There really wasn’t much else he could do at that moment except wait for the Tylenol to kick in, then force himself to eat something later.

Oh and don’t think about Steve. That would help too.

‘ _Yeah, right, like that’s going to happen,’_ he thought to himself bitterly. After all, Steve was the reason he was in this state to begin with. With a tired huff, James allowed himself the time to wallow in his self-pity. He’d given up a small piece of his innocence for this man, and got dumped for it. He’d been honest when he told Steve he was truly enjoying his flirtations. But clearly, that’s all they had been, and it looked like once Steve had gotten the most he could out of James, he’d simply skipped town without bothering to tell him why.

No… James knew _exactly_ why. He wasn’t stupid. He’d just been far too naïve, hoping he could have a friendship with Steve after surrendering his innocence to the first and only man James would ever love.

Well, it had been fun while it lasted. In the end, James just hoped that Steve was alright and making his pay just as he wanted. He wouldn’t be mad at Steve for leaving him behind. They never were meant to be anyway. He just wished he could have gotten the chance to give him a proper goodbye. That, in itself, would have been all the closure he needed.

* * *

 

Steve tapped his heel on the floor in a nervous drumbeat; his fingers were steepled in front of his lips and his elbows pressed painfully into the arms of the chair. He didn’t even so much as blink as he stared at the far wall and the row of chairs across from him. Around the room, the dull chatter of other people filled the room around him, but he paid them no mind. He had more important things to worry about.

“Steve,” a voice cut in. After a long, agonizing moment, he looked away from the wall and glanced to his right. At his side, Natasha sat with him, her elbows digging into her knees. Her painted lip was caught between her teeth as she stared at him with worry in her eyes. “Steve, they said they’d call you when they came back. You don’t have to sit here and wait for them.”

“I’m fine sitting right here,” Steve quipped. He tore his gaze from her to resume staring at the wall across from him. The sound of a baby crying from the other side of the room grated across his nerves and he ground his teeth together in an attempt to keep himself from losing his shit at the mother.

“I know you said that three times, but staring at the wall isn’t going to make the results come back faster,” Natasha said. She placed her hand on his elbow and tugged on it. “C’mon… let’s get outta here. They’ll call you when the results are in.”

“I said. I’m fine sitting right here,” Steve snapped. He leveled her with his most dangerous glare before finally looking away from her again. His eyes ghosted over to the far wall again to lock onto the same damn poster he’d been staring at for the past 2 hours and his stomach knotted up all over again.

**UNDERSTANDING HIV AND AIDS**

Steve inhaled sharply, looking down at his lap. With a tired gesture, he pulled his phone from his pocket, only to open up James’ conversation window once again. He’d been spending quite a few days staring at those messages from James already. He really wanted to answer them; Christ, he hadn’t meant to upset him like this.

But this had turned out to be one big, motherfucking shitstorm from the get-go.

Steve sighed, scrolling through James’ messages before backing out and stuffing his phone back into his pocket. It was all so wrong. Every single damn moment of it. He’d wanted to give himself time to work on earning Strucker’s money back, and distracting himself with James would have been sorely detrimental to his efforts. He really should have been honest with him from the start.

But then he’d gotten sick, this all dominoed out of control faster than he’d wanted and lo and behold, here he was. Fuck life.

Four days after Steve had set off on his quest to earn back Strucker’s money, Steve had fallen sick with what he had initially thought was a stomach virus. Nausea, vomiting, chills, the works. After all, it wasflu season. A lot of people were sick. It was just a shame, eating up his time working when he could be _saving James’ fucking life_.

But as he’d lain in bed, miserable and wishing he could go see James to make himself feel better, Steve had gotten the most frightening text message he’d ever received in his life: a friend of his who also made her profession as a sex worker, had just been diagnosed with HIV. Her symptoms had been very similar to Steve’s, though that wasn’t the scariest part.

The two of them had shared a client that Steve had worked with just a few weeks ago. Normally, Steve wouldn’t have worried about something like that. He always made sure his clients were clean, and that particular guy had sworn up and down he was virus-free. But then the condom had broken when Steve had fucked him, and then Melissa had also fucked the guy a few days later. Now she was HIV positive, and Steve was down with the same symptoms she had…

Steve had never been more terrified in his life.

Did it mean he’d have to give up his livelihood if he came out positive with the virus? Not necessarily. Did Steve honestly care what it did to his career? Not at all. Did he care what it did to his health? _Of course._ He’d been assured there were treatment options if he did come back positive. It didn’t meant a death sentence, the nurse had promised him.

But if he came back positive, there was no way in hell he could ever face James again, and that’s what scared him the most. He wouldn't dare run the risk of getting James sick too. He'd kill himself before he let that happen.

Steve’s stomach lurched at the thought, and he inhaled through his nose to keep the nausea away. Sure, he’d waited until his symptoms had finally gone away, but now he just felt sick all over again. Really, he hadn't felt better all all during the duration of his illness and recovery. The waiting itself had been the hardest part and oh, it had been the most painful wait of his life. Lying in bed for two days, scared out of his mind at the possibility, all while puking his guts up and fevered. Then sitting up for three days straight, praying that his results came back negative. Not eating. Not sleeping. Steve had never been more miserable in his existence.

The minute his symptoms had gone away and his fever broken, Steve had hauled his ass out of bed and called Natasha to tell her the terrifying news. Bless her, she’d left work instantly to go with him to the doctor, and sat with him while they ran the kit test on him. Now, 3 days later, Steve found himself back in the office waiting for those results to come back. They’d promised calling him with the results but… he hadn’t wanted to risk not getting the call. He wanted to hear them from the doctor’s mouth.

Minutes ticked by, and Steve’s agitation only grew. It didn't help that his brain began rebelling against him the longer he sat in that waiting room chair. ‘ _What if… what if James is already in danger?_ ’ Steve's brain suddenly conjured, sending the blond further into a spiral of panic.

Fuck! It wasn't enough that he faced the very big possibility that he was HIV positive. No, _now_ his brain had to helpfully supply the idea that he might have already passed the virus onto _James_. Shit, the two of the had made out just a couple days before Steve's symptoms started; Steve could very well be contagious right now. What the fuck was he going to do if he'd already infected that wonderful, innocent human being?

Steve’s heart rate picked up at the thought, and he tightened his fingers around the arms of his chair. No. No he couldn’t have possibly gotten James sick. He didn’t have symptoms yet. He didn’t even know for sure if he had it. He was getting himself worked up over nothing. At least he hoped it was the case. Christ, he’d fucking give up every good thing in his life and join the Priesthood himself if it meant ensuring 100% that James was clean and clear. Fuck, Steve would take every illness on the _planet_ for himself, if it meant James was alright.

He could feel his anxiety spiking, and his lungs seized up in preparation for a panic attack. However, before he could succumb, he felt a hand on his arm, soothing his worries back down. He looked over to Natasha, and saw the reassuring glance on her face. That look was enough to calm Steve’s worries back down, even just marginally.

Feeling a little better now that his panic attack had subsided, he offered her a grateful nod and squeezed her hand, earning a small smile from her in return. He really was lucky to have a friend in someone as caring as her.

As the two of them shared a meaningful look, the nurse stepped out to the waiting room, her clipboard in hand. “Steve?”

He’d never moved so fast in his life. Springing to his feet, Steve turned to the nurse and stepped up to the petite woman. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. At his side he felt Natasha squeeze his arm comfortingly, and he looked down at her with terror in his eyes. This was it. The moment of truth.

“If you’ll just follow me,” The nurse said. Leading them into the hallway beyond the door, and lead them into a private room. The room was cool, set up with nothing more than a counter with various swabs and cotton balls in jars, and a pressure cuff on the wall. Aside from the necessary tools of the trade, the only other thing in the room was the cold, metal examination table, which Steve leaned against nervously. As he waited for the results to be read to him, he watched the nurse turn back to them, and stare down at the clipboard. He held his breath, praying in his mind for a negative result. He waited… and waited.

The nurse nodded, pursing her lips slightly before looking up at Steve. “Well, there’s no other way to put this…”

“Just spit it out, lady,” Steve exhaled. He looked away from her and caught his reflection in the examination room’s mirror. Shit, he was as white as a sheet. ‘ _Please be clean,’_ he thought to himself frantically. ‘ _Please be negative. Please, God,  let it be negative…’_

The nurse nodded. Looking up at him, she offered a smile. “Congratulations, Mr. Rogers. You’re clean. The results came back negative.”

The words hit Steve like a sack of bricks. Huffing audibly, he stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on the exam room table to stare at the nurse. Negative. He was clean. He’d never felt more relieved in his life. Even still, despite the ease with which she gave him this happy news, it seemed way too good to be true. He looked up at her with mild suspicion. “Negative. So, all the- I mean, the vomiting and… stuff?”

“Well considering the symptoms came on so quickly and you had no fever to go with them, it looks like it was just a bout of food poisoning, actually,” the nurse reassured him. She made a few notes on her clipboard before looking up at him. “Nothing to worry about. It looks like you’re already feeling much better than you did when you came in a few days ago. If you want I can see if the doctor will write up a short term prescription for nausea medication if you’re still feeling a little sick, but that should do it then.”

Steve shook his head, glancing back at Natasha. He narrowed his eyes at the smug look she gave him, and he glanced back at the nurse. “But the test. It’s accurate? I mean, don’t these tests usually take a long time to get accurate results? I mean, I can come in in six months or something to try again-“

“Mr. Rogers. The test we gave you is the most accurate test on the market. Fourth generation EIA tests are accurate up to 99% within the time window you’ve been tested, with many clinical tests racking up 100% accuracy readings. I wouldn’t worry about having to schedule a retest.”

Steve listened to her. For the first time in days, he felt like he could actually breathe easier now. It didn’t matter that he’d missed out on almost two weeks' worth of pay. It didn’t matter he’d cancelled on his clients or worried himself sick. He was clean, that’s all that mattered to him now.

‘ _Shit… and I pissed off Bucky this whole damn time.’_

All at once, Steve’s worry climbed up his throat again and he looked down at his hands. He might not have been sick after all, but his stupid ass had probably pushed away the one guy he’d had feelings for in a very long time. A guy that was already ridiculously self-conscious about himself. A guy whose safety he’d put on the line because he was a fucking dumbass.

These test results were supposed to make him feel better. Now he just felt worse than before.

Nodding once, Steve gathered himself up and got to his feet. He turned to the nurse, and offered a hand to her. With a firm shake, he thanked her for her time before turning to Natasha and gesturing that they take their leave now. He really had no reason to stick around. He was clean; he didn’t need to sit around in this stupid doctor’s office anymore.

Steve remained resolutely silent as the two of them made their way outside. The sunlight streaming down did little for his mood and he hunched himself up, walking briskly to the car outside. He really hoped Natasha didn’t try to talk to him now; all he wanted to do was drop her off at home and then go hole up for the day and wallow in his confusion.

Of course, that was apparently not Natasha’s plan at all.

“So now that you’re feeling a lot better, do you want to go and get your mind off of this?” Natasha asked, breaking the silence. She looked up at him with a smile and patted his arm. “You really look like you’re trying not to have a mental break down. I think a distraction is just what you need today.”

Steve frowned. Clambering into his car, he buckled in and tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. A distraction might be a good idea, he agreed. Steve had a bad habit of letting himself ruminate too long in his mind, which almost never turned out good. Distracting himself from the ache of the past two weeks might actually be exactly what he needed.

Fuck it. Ruminating is just what he needed.

“Nah… I don’t think I really want to,” Steve sighed. He let his hands fall to his lap and he offered her a weak smile. “I think I just want to go home and sleep. I haven’t really done so in a while, so I’m kinda tired.”

Natasha frowned, meeting his gaze again. “You sure?” she asked quietly. Reaching out she touched his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You really probably shouldn’t be alone if you’re this upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just tired,” he protested. Looking away from her, he stared the car up and pulled out of the parking lot. “Maybe some other time though.”

With that, the two of them fell silent. Neither spoke as they made the drive to Natasha’s apartment, and only offered each other a comforting look when he finally parked outside her building. Just as Natasha clambered out of his car to go upstairs, Steve reached out and touched her arm. “Hey, Nat. Uhm- thanks for coming with me.” He said quietly. Offering her his first, genuine smile in days, Steve squeezed her wrist. “It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome. I meant it when I said I’m here for you. You’re my friend, Steve. If you ever need help, just tell me,” Natasha muttered. Squeezing his hand back, she stood up and motioned to the road. “Alright, get outta here. Go sleep for a week now. And I better see you back at the club again real soon. I miss your stupid mug there.”

Steve laughed, though the sound was weak at best. He felt far too wrung out to really feel any joy at that moment. There really was only one thing that could make him feel better at the moment, and he’d thoroughly stomped that into the ground when he abandoned him so long ago.

The minute Natasha slipped into the apartment building, Steve slumped back in his seat. He didn’t move for the longest time, just listening to the bustle of Brooklyn outside his car. Shit, he was tired. He literally could fall asleep right there in the car…

“Nope…” he grumbled to himself in annoyance. Starting up the car, Steve pulled away from the curb and made the ten minute drive back to his place. He wasn’t going out that night, since he’d had to cancel on his clients until he knew for sure what his diagnosis was; he wasn’t going to be able to book anyone on such short notice and he had _no_ desire to haunt the corners that night, after the scare he had. He’d just have to think of another way to earn Strucker’s money back.

Steve was so out of it, he actually surprised himself when he found himself outside his apartment building. Blinking in confusion, he slipped from the car and made his way upstairs. He passed by the elderly couple in 23B, offering them a courtesy nod before slipping into his apartment with a tired huff. He kicked off his shoes at the door, letting them fall whichever way they desired, and made a grand show of collapsing into his nearest Laz-Z-boy with a groan of protest. He never did get that sofa for his apartment yet, and he wasn’t about to lay down on broken springs and crushed cushions.

‘ _Note to self: never fuck clients on your sofa…’_

And there he sat, unmoving. He didn’t move even when the sun made its descent towards the horizon and cast Brooklyn in a pink and orange tint against the skyline. He didn’t move even when his stomach protested loudly for food (he hadn’t eaten in almost a week with his whole flu and virus scare). He didn’t even move when he got too uncomfortably hot in his jacket to take it off.

But he didn’t sleep either.

Hours passed, and Steve only found himself staring up at the ceiling in annoyance. He wanted to sleep; God how he wanted to just pass the fuck out and forget about this whole ordeal. But he couldn’t. Not when he had a hole the size of Texas eating away at his gut in pure guilt. He couldn’t sleep because why? He was thinking too much about James and what he’d done to him. He couldn’t sleep because he was just too upset with this whole ordeal to relax.

In honesty, he knew exactly what he needed to finally let go of his upset again. But would James even give him the time of day? He hadn’t gotten any text messages from him that day; Steve was certain the last one he’d received from James the night before had been a drunk text. James was far too impeccable with his spelling to let himself send a text message that filled with typos.

If James was reverting to drinking now, then Steve really did owe him at least an apology for leaving him like this.

But James hadn’t sent him any that day. Maybe he’d finally given up on him. After so long, he’d probably given up on Steve and probably deleted his number from his phone. It was the logical next step.

And all over again, Steve felt a stab of panic in his gut.

Right then and there, Steve knew what he had to do. He had to go talk to James. Calling him on the phone was just not an option; far too informal and impersonal. He had to apologize to him to his face. He’d fucked up, leaving him hanging for two weeks, and he was damn sure he was going to go make up for it now.

Climbing out of the chair, Steve made a beeline for the door and slipped his shoes on without undoing the laces. It was already growing dark out, but that didn’t matter to him. He knew exactly how to get to James’ house. He could get there with his eyes closed at this point.

Locking his apartment up, Steve jogged down the stairs and out to the sidewalk. Ducking his head, he set off on his walk to his friend’s house. He tried not to think about anything else, but the apology he would give to him. He owed him nothing less. He just hoped that Bucky forgave him for leaving him behind like this. Lord knew, Steve didn’t deserve it.

But that didn’t stop him from praying the entire walk there.

* * *

 

It had taken James the entire day to get over his hangover.

Sleeping on the sofa, had definitely helped him get over it, but every time he opened his eyes, the pain in his head only seemed to grow as the hours passed. The thought of eating was the absolute last thing on his mind, and every bone in his body felt like it was on fire. If he could help it, he was never touching another drop of vodka again in his lifetime.

He tried not to think about what these pains really meant. He really tried not to let himself realize these pains were grief and not the result of his drinking. He wasn’t thinking about Steve all day. He wasn’t fighting himself from sending him another meaningless text message that would just get ignored again. He really wasn’t.

It was just a hangover. That’s all.

By the time James woke up from his fourth nap for the day, he finally felt a little better. Better enough that he actually, maybe, sort of wanted to eat something. Nothing big. Maybe some pizza. With breadsticks.

Maybe like 12 hot dogs. Who knew…

With a groan of protest, James finally got off the couch and made his way to the kitchen to look for anything in the fridge. He might have been hungry (okay, he was starving, big deal), but he really didn’t feel like cooking anything. Walking somewhere to get food was out of the question. He just wanted to stuff his face and go back to pouting on the couch. That seemed like the logical plan for the evening.

However, just as he decided that microwaving some frozen meals would probably be the best he was going to get, he heard a knock at his door. James shot up so fast, he hit his head on the freezer door, groaning loudly as he cupped the back of his head in pain.

Shaking off the ache, James’ eyes darted over to the door, and he held his breath. He didn’t know why; it was just a knock after all. But for some reason, he just _knew_ who was on the other side of his front door.

And damn what he thought before about not being angry at Steve. By God he was _livid_!

Slamming the freezer door shut, James marched over to the front door and peeked out the peephole. Sure enough, standing on the other side of the door, was Steve, and he looked absolutely sheepish. Frowning heavily, James leaned away from the door, half tempted to just leave him standing there.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks, and finally he showed his face?! A whole week of James fretting and worrying over him, and he’d finally come back. Was it to tell James they were officially through as friends? Was it to come back and mock him for being a terrible kisser?

James didn’t rightly care what the reason was. He just wanted to give him a piece of his mind for abandoning him like that and making him think something was wrong. And give him a piece of his mind he would!

Inhaling, James opened the door, leveling Steve with the saltiest glare he could muster. His fingers remained tight on the doorframe, and he looked over the timid looking man with a speculative gaze. He looked sorry. Good.

“Steve. What brings you around here?” James asked coldly. “Just stopping by or did you have a reason to actually come talk to me?”

Steve openly flinched at his words and looked up to meet his gaze. He didn’t move for a second, simply twisting his hands in the pockets of his jacket in a meek gesture. “Uhm… I wanted to come talk to you. Can I- I mean, may I come in?”

James looked him over, pursing his lips. For a moment he didn’t speak, simply taking the time to assess the other. He genuinely did look apologetic for whatever reason he’d come all this way. Quite suddenly, all the anger he’d felt simmered out in an instant, and James’s shoulders slumped. Dammit, he couldn’t stay mad at Steve if he looked this upset. There went his martyr complex again; whatever reason Steve had to tell him they were over, James would accept. Just as long as it made Steve stop looking so miserable again. “Yeah you can come in…”

Steve offered him a weak smile. Slipping into the building, he hovered by the door for a second, just watching James as he locked the house back up. “I’m sorry I came over so late, I just-“

“Ah! Wait, I have something to say first,” James said. Well. He had intended on showing him how angry he was. It didn’t matter if he’d lost some of that gusto. He was going to invoke it, dammit.

So inhaling sharply, James reached out and slapped Steve across the shoulder, shooting him a dark look. “Two weeks, Steve! _Two!_ What the heck was so important that you had to leave for so long and not bother to tell me where it was you went! Why did you disappear like that?! Why weren’t you answering my calls or texts? I thought something happened to you for God’s sake!”

Steve flinched, rubbing his arm where James had slapped him. He offered him the most pitiful look he could, and shied away from his angry tirade. “I know, I’m sorry! That’s why I came to talk to you, I’m-“ he stopped and inhaled. “I’m so sorry I did that to you. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you… God this is so hard,“ he whined, ducking his gaze to the floor.

James blinked, feeling his heart clenching up in his chest. This was it; the moment when Steve would tell him James made a terrible romantic partner. It would make sense. He couldn’t kiss to save his life. He wasn’t even meant to be in a romantic relationship. Logically, James knew he was crazy, expecting anything less. But he’d gotten so tied up in Steve’s glory and beauty, he’d completely put aside his vocation for him and expected the impossible. Not only was he a dirty man in the eyes of his career, he was a sinner and a damned soul. He’d messed up so terribly, and still the worst thing about it was having to hear Steve tell him he didn’t “like him like that”.

He might not have been a teenager, but dammit this must have been what it felt like to get dumped good and proper. It didn’t hurt any less at 35 than it did at 16, he supposed…

“So,” James sighed. He leaned back against the wall for a moment, looking away from Steve. “You didn’t know how to tell me… what? That our kiss was a mistake and you didn’t like it? That… you know, whatever we had going on between us is over already? I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to be with me, you know I have no clue what the heck I’m doing and-“

Steve blinked, looking up at him. “Wait, what?” He reached out and placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “Wait you think this is about the kiss? About-“ he inhaled and closed his eyes. “Dammit! I knew this was gonna come out all wrong.”

James paused. He stared, never tearing his gaze away from Steve as he waited for him to explain himself with bated breath. The suspense was literally killing him, and he just wanted to know what the hell he was thinking! “What? What are you talking about?”

Steve didn’t answer him at first. Instead, he grabbed James’ arm and pulled him to the sofa. Sitting him down, Steve tucked himself right next to James and wrapped his fingers around his wrist. “Listen to me when I say this. This had nothing to do with the kiss or with you at all. God, it was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had in my _life_! This had nothing to do with you or our friendship at all. Please believe me. I didn’t want to leave you behind for two weeks, and I’m so damn sorry I did.”

James felt the knots in his stomach loosen up finally. This had nothing to do with him. At first, James felt lighter than air. Steve didn’t hate him. Steve still wanted him.

Then, that lightness went away in an instant. If this wasn’t about James, then why did Steve still look so upset? Frowning, James wrapped his fingers up in Steve’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “If this isn’t about me, then what is it? What happened?” He scooted closer to Steve, bumping shoulders with him in a show of comfort. His anger had dissipated entirely now; now all he wanted was to show Steve the comfort he obviously needed. Whatever was bothering Steve, James wouldn’t hesitate to help in any way he could.

Steve exhaled. Suddenly, he let go of James’ wrist and tugged him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He pulled James close to himself and buried his face in the crook of his neck, where he exhaled a shaky breath against the warm skin there. He sounded like he was on the edge of crying and that broke James’ heart into a thousand pieces. He hated hearing Steve sound so broken. If he could help it, he’d make sure he never sounded like that again in his life.

“It’s-“ Steve stopped, swallowing audibly. He inhaled again, staving off the broken tone in his voice before speaking again. “I had to get an HIV test…”

That was not the answer James had been expecting. The moment Steve uttered those words, James felt all the blood in his veins freeze, and his heart drop to his stomach. Logically, he knew the risk was there. He just couldn’t believe that the indomitable Steve Rogers would be one of those people that would have to face it.

Every ounce of anger in his body turned instantly to terror, and James tightened his arm around Steve’s shoulders. Pulling him closer, James buried his face in Steve’s neck, exhaling in a rush. Now he felt like _he_ was going to cry. Why… why did this have to happen to his Steve!? “Oh God, no…” he breathed; tears welled up in his eyes and he shook his head in disbelief. “Oh my God, I’m- Steve..”

“No, no!” Steve exclaimed. Looking up at him, Steve broke the hug to level James with a reassuring look. “No, it’s okay. I’m clean.” Offering him a weak smile, Steve reached up and brushed a finger across his cheek to dry up a tear. “I’m clean. I’m alright, I promise.”

James swallowed. Reaching up, he brushed his knuckles over his cheek to catch the remainder of his tears from his face; he didn’t realize he had actually started crying. Not like he could have stopped himself anyway.

Looking up at Steve, he offered him an uncertain look. “God, Steve… You’re.. you’re sure you’re alright?” he pleaded. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers down Steve’s jaw, memorizing the lines of his face. If something ever happened to him-

James would never have forgiven himself if something had happened to Steve and he’d allowed himself to stay angry at him.

Steve nodded. He leaned his cheek into James’ fingers. Then, without warning, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm. “It just- I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. It just scared the hell out of me to think I might be sick and I didn’t want to burden you with being around you if I had it.”

James frowned. He fought back a shiver as Steve’s lips brushed over his palm, soothing his terror down once again. He brushed his fingers along Steve’s cheek, never once tearing his gaze away from him. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why Steve would be terrified to be around him. James would have done everything in his power to watch over him him if he were sick.

“I don’t understand,” He breathed. “If you were sick, you know I would have taken care of you. It wouldn’t have been a burden to me. You _know_ how much I care about you, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. Looking up at him, Steve locked eyes with James. This time, though, his blue eyes were not terrified or ashamed. They were burning with determination, and want. “No. That’s not it.”

Before James could react, Steve reached up. Cupping his hand over the back of his head, Steve pulled him down and pressed a kiss to his lips. He lingered for a long moment, just taking the time to inhale his scent, before he finally pulled back. Pressing his forehead to James’, Steve closed his eyes, looking for all the world like a man starved for attention. “I didn’t want to risk getting you sick too…”

James’ eyes widened. His lips tingled, and he found himself leaning into Steve just a bit. This kiss… it was more intense than it had been a week ago. Then, it had been exploratory, curious. Now, James could only describe it as desperation and utter want. It was the kind of want he’d never allowed himself to have in his lifetime, and he was stunned to realize how much he truly desired to have this moment just to himself. It was a selfish moment, but he wouldn’t dare trade it for anything else in this world.

Instantly, the blood in his veins turned red hot, churning with something he couldn’t describe. The feeling of Steve’s breath, hot and wet against his lips, made his toes curl and his skin tingle with a foreign sensation he couldn’t describe. It reminded him quite a bit of their last kiss, leaving him breathless and begging for something he didn’t quite understand.

But when Steve turned him in his lap, pulling him flush to his front, James realized what it was he was feeling; the moment he felt his groin brush against Steve’s stomach, the Deacon felt an unmistakable presence in the other’s jeans. A hard line pressed up against his hip, grinding against him as he kissed him blindly and made James weak in his arms. But when he felt his own erection, hard and pressing against his own jeans, James pulled away from the kiss to look up at Steve in confusion.

He remembered this; much like their last kiss, James suddenly recognized these feelings and what he’d done before. The memory of Steve’s fingers ghosting over his chest and tweaking a nipple, the feeling of their cocks brushing through their clothing. He remembered the mechanical motion of his hips, driven by instinct rather than experience, and he remembered exactly how hungry Steve looked. This time was no different, and with a growing paranoia, James realized exactly what this was.

He might have been a virgin, but he knew exactly what these sort of feelings meant. All of a sudden, the memory of his past several weeks with Steve caught up with him, and he froze in Steve’s arms. The touches, the flirting, the feelings Steve left behind in the pit of his stomach every time he touched him. He remembered how curious he’d been when they kissed last, almost like a child discovering his body for the first time and how good he could make it feel.

But with curiosity comes exploration, and with a blinding terror, James knew what was happening: he was allowing himself to be truly seduced. Steve wanted to have sex with him. More terrifyingly: James realized he wanted to have sex with _Steve_.

“W-wait!” James gasped against Steve’s lips. He tried like hell to pull away from Steve’s kisses, but he found he was disgusted with himself that he couldn’t stop his own body from seeking out more of Steve’s touches. With titanic effort of sheer will, James pressed his hand to Steve’s chest, and tore himself away from him with a gasp. “Wait!”

Steve blinked breathing heavily. He looked up at James with bewilderment. “What? What is it?” he asked. He brushed his fingers along James’ throat for a moment, feeling the trembling figure beneath his grip. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

“I-I don’t know,” James murmured. He looked down between them, to the sight of his erection pressed firmly into Steve’s stomach. He uttered a choked wail, tearing himself from Steve’s lap and stumbling to his feet. “I don’t- I can’t…!”

“Whoa, hey,” Steve said. His eyes widened in shock and he held his hand up in a placating gesture. Getting slowly to his feet, Steve turned to James and offered him a comforting look. “Hey, it’s alright. Bucky- Buck, look at me, okay?”

James shivered. He didn’t move for a long moment, his eyes locked on the floor. But after a brief pause, he listened to steve’s comforting voice. It took all his strength to look up at him; when he did, he felt a rush of relief to see the understanding look in steve’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed. Taking the chance, he stepped up to James’ side, and reached out. With a caress, he brushed his fingers through the loose strands of James’ hair, and gently pulled him closer. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bucky. I’m not gonna force you to do anything.”

James went pliant, collapsing right into Steve’s arms. With a heavy whimper, he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and buried his face into his shoulder. Even still with his guilt and uncertainty, he wanted to take the next step. Even now, with his conscience and his religion staring him in the eye, he wanted to touch and be touched by Steve. He didn’t want to have sex with just anyone. He wanted to have sex with Steve, and only Steve.

‘ _Surely… surely that can’t be a sin, can it? Wanting it with only one person?’_

“No,” James moaned sadly. He tightened his fingers in Steve’s shirt, and rubbed his cheek along the taller man’s shoulder. “No I do. That’s the thing, Steve. I do want to do something with you. I just- I don’t know what. I don’t know how far to go. But I want to be with you.” James inhaled and staved off his guilty emotions. After a breath, he looked up at Steve, offering him a miserable little look. “I want- I want to feel you…”

Steve listened. He didn’t move for the duration of James’ explanation. Even when he’d voiced his wants, he didn’t move. When James fell silent again, Steve’s eyes darted from his face down to their chests; they were so close they were practically one being now. With a shudder of his own, he reached up. Cupping James’ jaw in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over the bone of his cheek. Then, with a careful gesture, he leaned in and pressed his lips to James’ once again. This time, the kiss was not exploratory, nor was it hungry. This time, it was sweet, gentle and soothing. James almost instantly relaxed into his arms, eyes drifting shut. Every bone in his body turned to jelly at the chaste, tender kiss. He felt as if he could literally melt in his arms, and his fingers tightened in his shirt to keep himself upright.

He wanted Steve more than anything he wanted in his life. He just never realized how scary this moment could be.

“Okay, Bucky,” Steve breathed. Pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, Steve offered him a weak smile. “How about this. We go as slow as you want. We only go further if you want to. If you only want to kiss tonight, then we only kiss. If you want to keep all your clothes on, then we’ll keep all our clothes on. You set the pace, babe. I’ll only show you what you want to be shown. Fair?”

James nodded. He kept his eyes locked on Steve’s face, soaking up every inch of him, every laugh line and every faint wrinkle that formed in his brow. He took it all in, memorizing it, cataloguing it. Steve was doing this all for him. It was truly the most selfless thing James had ever had someone do for him.

“Okay, Stevie,” James whispered. He offered him a smile of his own, brushing his thumb over the swell of Steve’s lower lip. “So… What do we do now?”

Steve chuckled. Looking away from him, he glanced at the sofa. “Well… we can stay out here if you want to, or we can go in the bedroom. The bed might be more comfortable for you to stretch out on, but if that’s too intimate we can stay out here.”

James thought about it for a moment. After a pause, he nodded. “Bedroom. I want to lay down with you. B-but, with our clothes on first.”

Steve chuckled. With a gentle hand, he wrapped his fingers around James’ wrist and tugged him for the bedroom. “Alright, with our clothes on.”

James followed. He felt like he was walking on a cloud; Steve was doing absolutely everything for him, to make sure he was comfortable. James couldn’t believe how incredibly wonderful Steve really was. He felt as if he’d been blessed with his own guardian angel, and the thought alone made his heart thump happily in his chest.

He followed Steve into the bedroom. The moment the door shut behind him, though, James felt a residual worry claw its way back into his stomach. With an uncertain little whimper, he hovered by the door, twisting the hem of his t-shirt in his hand as he watched Steve. “O-okay. Now what?” he asked timidly.

Steve chuckled. He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed. Patting the mattress next to him, Steve offered him a hopeful look. “C’mon. Come sit down with me. Do you want to kiss? Or cuddle?”

“Kiss,” James said instantly. With tentative steps, he crossed the room and sat down next to Steve. “And then maybe we’ll see what after that.”

“Alright.” Steve offered him a comforting look and wrapped his arm around his waist. With a touch, he turned James to him and gripped his hip. He flexed his fingers in the Deacon’s hip, pulling him flush before pressing little kisses to his lips. “Do you- do you want to kiss sitting up? Or laying down?”

James whimpered. He leaned into those little peck kisses eagerly, seeking out more. With a tentative gesture, he flicked his tongue out, feeling the roughened edge of Steve’s chapped lip for himself. He realized, with sudden clarity, that he was addicted to that feeling and he did it again, feeling out more of Steve’s mouth. When Steve offered up a breathy moan, James shivered openly. He wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled himself closer to his front.

“I want to lie down,” he said quietly. He opened his eyes to look up at Steve and offer him a little nod. “I want to lie down. And… and take your jacket off.”

Steve laughed. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. With a quick shrug, he threw his jacket off of his shoulders and down to the floor, where it landed in a pile. When he was free of his jacket, Steve scooted up the bed and lay back against James’ pillows in invitation. Holding his arm out to him, Steve offered a small smile and a wink before patting the bed again. “C’mon up here. Remember. All at your pace.”

James watched him. He fought back the wave of nervousness at the sight and simply did as he was told; he scooted up the bed with Steve, stretching out next to him. As he lay next to him, he shifted awkwardly, trying to get his prosthetic to lay just right under his side. He tried to keep the action subtle, but after a time, he realized he just looked like he was squirming uncomfortably. James looked away from Steve, his expression ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’m not as perfect as your other… as your clients for kissing.”

Steve laughed. “Trust me, you are the best person I have ever kissed. For someone that’s never done it before you kinda actually know what you’re doing. I’ve had sex with people that don’t know how to kiss.” Sitting up, Steve turned to James and offered him a loving look. “But how about this? If laying on your side is uncomfortable with the prosthesis on, lay on your back. If you want… I can kiss you in other spots. Not just your lips.”

“Other spots… like where?” James asked. Even still, he did as he was told and turned to his back. Instantly, he felt a lot more comfortable and he relaxed back into the pillows to look up at Steve. “Where else are you going to kiss me?”

Steve thought about it. After a moment, he offered James a curious little smirk. Moving carefully, he knelt between James’ legs and leaned down; he pushed the other’s shirt up from his jeans, exposing his belly to the room. He paused then, looking up at James for the affirmative. “I could kiss you here?”

James giggled, clapping his hand over his mouth. Looking down at his exposed stomach, he fought back the manic sound and tried to maintain his composure. He was certain people Steve had kissed before, never giggled like that. “Y-Yeah, you can kiss me there.” He said finally. He shifted a little, allowing his t-shirt to ride up his back a little. When he saw Steve smile, James felt a wiggle of happiness in his chest.

But with each inch the shirt climbed up his stomach, James felt his uncertainty begin to come back. When the shirt was just below his nipples, he reached up and stopped Steve’s hand. “Right there’s good,” he said quickly. He was sure he was blushing now, but… Steve had said to go at his pace. Right now, this was perfect.

Steve nodded. With the affirmative, he leaned down and began to kiss across James’ stomach. Those kisses were feather light and tender, leaving a trail of oversensitive skin in his wake. He didn’t stop, moving across the expanse of James flat stomach. When he reached the arch of a hipbone, Steve tenderly wrapped his lips around the jut, giving the skin a little kiss. Then, with an experimental flick of his tongue, he ran the flat of it over the bone before glancing up at James. “Too much?” he asked quietly.

James gasped. Looking down at Steve, he offered him a bright eyed glance and a whimper. “N-no that was… that was good. I liked that.” He said quietly. Without meaning to, he rocked his hips up again, seeking out another kiss from those heavenly lips. “Keep going.”

Steve laughed. Giving him an affirmative nod, he leaned down and flicked his tongue out, dancing across the planes of James’ belly. He traced the lines of his muscles, a wet, tender line up and down his flesh before he leaned into the other side. He kissed his other hip this time, and sucked just a little harder, letting his teeth dig into his skin just a bit.

James hissed. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked down to where Steve was sucking on his hipbone. He thought it should feel weird, having someone suck on his hip like that. But it felt… it felt _good_! It felt wonderful, and the lingering sting that remained behind even after Steve leaned back only made James’ skin crawl with growing interest. “Steve- Steve what was…”

“That?” Steve chuckled. He let his fingers dance over James’ hip for a moment, tracing it. It was then, James could see what Steve had left behind; what had once been a stretch of smooth, olive skin over his hipbone was now marked with a dark red, almost purple mark. “That’s your first hickey. Feels pretty good huh?”

“M-mmmmm yeah…” James whimpered. He swallowed thickly, letting his head fall back against the pillow to stare at the ceiling above him. As he did, he felt those instincts beginning to well up in his body again, making his groin unusually sensitive. Even shifting slightly made his jeans rub against his erection funny, and he felt himself choking as the slight friction sent a jolt of of a sensation through his body. “Feels- feels good. More?”

“Yeah, baby, I can give you more,” Steve murmured. He scooted back a little to sit on his heels, and reached out. With a gentle hand, he grabbed at James’ t-shirt, lifting it just a little from his chest. “Do you want me to take your shirt off?”

A swell of panic lifted in James’ chest at that notion. “No!” he exclaimed suddenly. Reaching up, he grabbed Steve’s wrist, stopping his hand from moving his shirt up anymore. “Don’t. Not yet. I just want to kiss you right now.”

Steve nodded. He gently let go of James’ shirt and allowed it to settle on his chest. James could feel the cloth had landed above his nipple this time, exposing it to the cool air around him. But he didn’t mind so much. Not as long as his shirt stayed on his shoulder. “Okay, I won’t take it off yet.”

He did, however, crawl up the bed, bridging himself over James’ torso. But before he could lean in to press a kiss to his lips, James suddenly reached up, and gripped his shirt instead. “Can you… take off your shirt, though?” James asked quietly. He felt his cheeks flush bright red at the question, and he looked away from him. “If you don’t want to, I’ll underst-“

“Of course I can take it off. If you want me to, it’s coming off.” Steve chuckled and sat up. With a quick gesture, he shucked his t-shirt off and tossed it to the side of the bed. Now completely topless, Steve sat back on his heels and allowed James a moment to admire his bare chest. “What do you think?”

James was speechless. Staring up at him, he found his heart leap up into his throat at the sight of Steve’s figure. Clearly, the blond spent a lot of time in a gym. He was cut, gloriously so, almost as if he’d been chiseled out of marble. The way the low light shone on his smooth skin made him look angelic and perfect. As he admired his figure, James saw the tattoos he’d remembered, one script across his collarbone, the other on his shoulder, and he found himself entranced by the sight of them.

With an awed little gasp, James sat up slowly. He reached out, brushing his fingers over the rounds of Steve’s pecs. His finger caught on a nipple, and he watched in fascination as Steve shivered at the touch; such a small little piece of flesh held a world of sensation. It was intriguing, to see how easily James could get Steve’s demeanor to crack, just by touching that soft little bud of flesh. So with a curious gesture, he reached out and gently pinched the bud between his fingers, rolling it a little. “You’re absolutely perfect,” James breathed.

Steve shivered; his eyes drooped heavily at the touch to his nipple, and he fought back a little moan. “Keep that up, and I’m gonna have a real hard time slowing this down, Bucky,” he breathed heavily. Opening his eyes, he looked up at Bucky and offered him a sheepish little look. “Sorry… my nipples are really sensitive.”

James smiled. Delighted at his discovery, he leaned in and pressed his lips to that little, pert bud in front of him. When he felt Steve jump at the touch, he laughed, leaning back to admire Steve. “Can you kiss me again? A-and… give me another…”

Steve inhaled slowly. Looking up at James, he offered him an open, wanting glance before nodding. Without a word, he leaned in and pushed James back against the pillows. He loomed over him, pressing his hands into the bedding to hold himself up as he pushed him into another kiss. This time the kiss was far more insistent than before, little nips and tugs interspaced with the kisses and brushes of tongue at hand.

James gasped; almost instantly, he knew he liked the feeling of Steve’s teeth on his skin. Leaning up, he instigated more contact, brushing his own tongue across Steve’s in a curious little touch. When he felt Steve pull his lip into his mouth and suck, James barked out a surprised moan that ebbed into the quiet room around them. “Oh! Oh….” He gasped. Without thinking, he lifted his leg up, brushing his thigh along Steve’s hip. He rocked his hip up, undulating against his friend’s groin in a slow, but insistent roll of hips.

Above him, Steve let loose his own whimper of delight, meeting the Deacon’s hips halfway. He didn’t hesitate to grind down against him, his fingers tightening on James’ hip as the two of them rocked against each other. “Yeah… this… nngh this is good. You sure you haven’t done this before?” Steve asked in a breathy laugh. Before James could answer him, he broke the kiss and trailed his lips down to his neck. With a little whimper of delight, Steve pressed his lips to the juncture of James’ neck and shoulder. He nosed the cloth of his t-shirt aside, and wrapped his lips around that patch of skin. Then, with a little groan of delight, he bit down, sucking the skin sharply to draw blood to the surface.

James gasped. His fingers tightened on Steve’s hip and he rocked up hard against it. With a shudder, James wrapped his leg around the back of Steve’s thigh, rutting up against him with a new sense of desperation. Pleasure pooled in the base of his spine, shooting out to his limbs in little waves as he rocked and ground up against the other. “Oh God! St-Steve…!” he whimpered loudly.

Steve laughed, though he did pull away from his neck. The moment his lips left him, James could feel the cold air touching the fresh bruise on his neck, and he opened his eyes to see Steve looking down at him with total admiration. “Looks good on you, Buck,” he murmured in satisfaction. After a breath, he looked him in the eye, his expression softening just a little. “Is this too fast? You gotta tell me, Bucky. If you feel like we’re goin’ a little fast for you we can slow down okay?”

James listened, letting his head fall back to the pillow. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, trying to get himself back under control, at least long enough to consider Steve’s question; were they going too fast? Steve had said they could go at his pace.

Well… was it too fast if James _wanted_ to keep going?

“No, no.” he breathed. “It’s okay. We can keep going…” With a tentative gesture, James reached down, oh so slowly letting his fingers trace Steve’s side. He reached down, down past his belly button, to his groin, where his cock stood proudly against the tent of his jeans. James bit his lip, looking up at Steve hesitantly, before letting his finger ghost over the length of his dick. “We can keep going.”

Steve inhaled, looking down between them. He watched James’ fingers for a moment before tentatively rolling his hips forward. He brushed his cock along James’ palm, letting the rough fabric of his jeans brush his skin before looking up at him. “Okay, Buck. Do you… do you want me to touch you there, too?”

James nodded. He offered Steve a small smile and looked away from him. “Yes… Please. T-take… take off my jeans?”

Above him, Steve hesitated for a minute. His fingers hovered over James’ bare belly, trembling just the slightest bit in his periphery. After a breath, Steve uttered a half-laugh before he sat back on his heels. “Yeah, baby, I can do that. If you’re sure, I can… I can do that.”

James nodded. Looking up at Steve, he watched him take in the sight of his figure lying beneath him. He thought he looked so small, lying underneath Steve’s thighs like this. James allowed himself a moment to admire their positions; he himself laying on his back beneath Steve, while Steve knelt above him, in his shirtless glory.

James knew exactly what he was doing; he wanted to expose himself to Steve, allow him to see him in a way no one had ever seen him before. He was already giving over his sexual exploration to this man. He already knew he loved him. He might as well put aside his insecurities and show him everything he was, flaws and all.

The minute Steve looked away from him to work on the button of his jeans, James suddenly sat up. Without a word, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. Without a word, he pulled the cloth up and off of his torso entirely, exposing himself to Steve for the first time since they met. He didn’t look up at him; he was too scared to see what his reaction was.

But it was there. For the first time in many, many years, James had thrown aside his armor and allowed another person to see his body- with all its scars and imperfections- exactly as he saw himself in the mirror every morning.

The first reaction was Steve’s gasp. James flinched, looking down at his lap to stare at his open button intently. Almost instantly, he regretted taking off his shirt in front of Steve. Steve, who was so perfect and so flawless, finally saw every inch of scar on James’ shoulder and side. He could see where the car had ripped his arm right from the bone, the little stub of his shoulder fitted into the prosthesis at his side. He could see the silver lines, gouged into his ribs and shoulder like lightning bolts in his flesh. He could see the discoloration, the permanent marks that made him look so ugly and so damaged to the rest of the world.

James expected Steve to pull away from him. He expected him to utter a disgusted sound, get off the bed and leave him right then and there. He didn’t expect him to reach out and touch his bare chest where the scars ended and smooth skin began. Most of all, he certainly didn’t expect Steve to lean in, pressing his lips to the scarring on his chest in a reverent kiss that could have made him cry.

“James,” Steve breathed. He pulled back from his kisses to meet his gaze head on. “Your arm… why…”

James shrugged. Staring at his lap, he forced himself to keep his shoulders still, keep away the tears that wanted to spring to his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could keep his voice steady, but there was nothing he could do about that. Let Steve hear him cry. That’s what this was about: exposure. “I wanted you to see all of me,” he croaked. “All of me, just as I am. I thought... maybe you deserved to see it.”

Steve didn’t answer him. Instead, he turned his attention back to his shoulder, running his fingers along the lines of his prosthetic and harness. “May I…” When James nodded, Steve tenderly reached out, and undid the clasps of his harness. With a gentle touch, he allowed the prosthesis to fall away from his shoulder, detached completely from his side, before falling to the bedding. He carefully placed the harness down on the side table, taking his time to admire James’ figure in front of him. “Bucky, it’s-“

“Please don’t say it’s beautiful,” James said suddenly. He looked up at Steve, his eyes shining brightly. “Please don’t lie to me. I know my shoulder’s not beautiful. Not having an arm… it’s not beautiful. I know it, so please don’t try to be like everyone else that says such nice things about it. Nothing about it is nice.”

Steve nodded. A smile caught the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head. “You’re right. It’s not beautiful. But it’s a part of you, and it’s the most amazing sign of strength I’ve ever seen in my life.”

James looked up at him, taken totally by surprise with his answer. He couldn’t find his voice, simply meeting his gaze head on before swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You don’t… you don’t think it’s disgusting?”

“Hell no. If I thought it was disgusting, I’d be saying you’re disgusting. And like I said before, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my whole life.” Steve leaned in then, pressing his lips to James’. As he did, he reached up and cupped his palm over the scarred stump at his side. “You’re beautiful, James. Not what you went through. Not the injury you endured. But you. And I really, really like you.”

Whatever walls James had around his heart, finally crumbled a that statement.  Whatever inhibitions he felt towards letting Steve claim him were gone in an instant. He slumped forward, pressing himself as close to Steve as he possibly could. Whimpering in the back of his throat, he threw his remaining arm around his neck and pulled him closer, letting his leg drape across his backside to pull him closer. “St-Steve…!” He gasped through grateful tears. He leaned in, pressing kisses all up and down the column of Steve’s neck, showering him in grateful, appreciative little gestures.

Without a word, he leaned back, pulling Steve on top of him as he collapsed back against the bedding. The minute he was on his back, James pressed his lips to Steve’s seeking out more of those hungry touches. As he did, he reached down and grabbed Steve’s wrist, drawing his hand down to his groin. He shivered when he felt the other’s fingers ghosting up and down his length, and he groaned at the feeling of pressure brushing against his erection. “Mmm… St-Steve… what do- what do I do?” he asked, broken and uncertain.

Steve chuckled. Without a word, he reached down and undid the button of James’ jeans all the way. With a gentle hand, he drew the zipper down, fully opening James’ jeans up to him. “Relax. Lay back on the bed. I’ll do this okay?”

James nodded. He slumped back to the pillow; reaching up, he absentmindedly rubbed his palm over his shoulder, feeling the rough scars. He watched as Steve loomed over him, his fingers working deftly to get his jeans down his hips. When he felt him tug on the tops of his underwear, James inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes, lifting his hips from the bedding to allow Steve to pull his pants down his hips. He shivered violently when cold air touched his engorged dick, opening his eyes to watch as his cock, full and hard, stood up proudly from his hips. For a moment, residual shame filled him at the sight of his hardened length, and he fought like hell from covering himself up. Instead, he looked up at Steve, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

Steve didn’t speak. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on his dick, a smile lighting up his features. He glanced up at James for a moment, offering him a reassuring smile before he gently wrapped his fingers around his length. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna work you over a little, okay, Bucky? Do you- I mean, do you want to do this? Do you want to go all the way, baby?”

James looked up at him; blood pounded in his ears as he mulled over the question. He’d already gotten this far. Steve already saw him naked. He was already this far gone in his pleasure. Did he want to go all the way?

Hell yes he did.

Nodding up at Steve, James flashed him a bashful smile. That smile melted away instantly, the minute Steve started stroking his cock. Shocked and taken totally off guard by his touch, James cried out, bucking up into the circle of his fist in surprise. “Oh God!” he gasped loudly. He’d never felt anything like this; at least nothing that he remembered doing. He knew, growing up, that masturbation was a sin and sex was reserved for marriage, so he’d never done anything like that. Not really. He most certainly never remembered anything feeling this good, or this raw.

Moaning in the back of his throat, James’ eyes slammed shut. He bucked up into Steve’s grip, feeling the friction of his palm against his length. It was too much. Already too much! His legs felt like they were on fire, his stomach as tight as a knot. He whimpered louder still, pushing his hips up, up, feeling for more. That fire was building in his thighs, shooting up his stomach and across his hips. His cock… he’d never felt anything like this before. His cock felt like it was going to rupture right there in Steve’s hands. A tight, almost painful cramp rocked up his legs, from his toes and all the way up his stomach.

Suddenly, James bucked off the bed, shouting out into the quiet bedroom. On the down stroke of Steve’s fist, every nerve in James’ body fired off at once and his dick twitched in his grip. “ _OHH! AHH!”_ he shouted, biting his lower lip sharply. Pulses throbbed in his groin, and with a sudden, horrified realization, James looked down just in time to see his cock spurt to life, spilling over violently with wild, pearlescent ropes of his seed. He gasped, staring down at himself in mortification. His seed, wet and warm, landed on his stomach in sticky puddles, painting his skin right there.

He’d orgasmed.  For the first time, James understood what an orgasm really felt like… And he’d come too soon. Jesus, Steve hadn’t even taken off his own pants yet, and he’d already reached his climax! He’d just ruined this whole thing. What the hell was Steve going to think?

“Oh God,” James gasped. His head fell back against the pillow and embarrassment flushed him dark red. He bit his lip again, shaking his head as he lay beneath Steve, too ashamed to move or even look at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to… to do that, Steve I’m sorry-“

“Whoa, whoa!” Steve laughed. Gently, he released James’ still twitching cock from his fist, and leaned over him. Turning James’ head, Steve leaned in and pressed tender kisses to his lips. “What the hell are you sorry about? You’re sorry you came? Don’t you ever be sorry about that! You just focus on how fuckin’ _good_ that felt!”

“B-but… it was too soon. You didn’t even…” James swallowed. Looking up at him, he met the other’s gaze, confused to see the delight dancing happily in his blue eyes. “You didn’t even do anything yet. And now it’s... now it’s done.”

Steve looked down at him. Smiling tenderly, he leaned in, pressing little kisses all across James’ forehead. “Oh, baby, we are _far_ from done. Unless you wanna stop now, we can keep going. There’s no saying we have to stop now just because you came. It’s up to you, though.” Steve smiled, leaning on his elbow. He watched James for a moment, brushing his fingers through his hair to soothe the deacon. “Do you wanna stop now? Or do you wanna keep playing?”

James listened to him, feeling a hell of a lot better. He swallowed, looking down at his cooling semen for a moment before running his finger through it. He made a face at the sticky sensation and smirked a little as he rubbed it off on his blanket. “I want to keep going. I want to-” James swallowed. His heart picked up pace at the thought and a thrill of excitement took over him. Steve wasn’t mad at him. Steve wanted to keep going. It was a damn miracle. “I want to have sex with you,” he whispered eagerly.

Steve smirked. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to James’ lips. He lingered for a moment, allowing James the chance to inhale his scent, before he pressed his forehead to his. “I wanna have sex with you too, Buck.” Leaning back, Steve offered him a gentle look and glanced down at his groin. “Do you trust me, Bucky? I’m gonna make sure you and I do this right, but you gotta trust that I’m gonna do this right. Okay?”

James nodded. Of course he trusted Steve. He trusted him more than anyone else in his life. Dare he say, he trusted him more than his own career at this point. He may have been inexperienced at this, but he just knew that Steve would do right by him now. He had no reason not to.

So with that, James slumped back against the bedding, pillowing his one arm behind his head. He watched curiously as Steve got off the bed and pulled his wallet from his pocket. He watched as Steve removed two little foil squares from inside, and tossed them to the bedding. He recognized one of them as a condom, but the other one, he wasn’t sure. It looked rather bulbous and was colored a dark red. As Steve worked to kick his own jeans off, James reached down and picked up the second packet.

‘Personal Lubricant’ it read. James stared at it for a moment, realizing then and there what that meant. Of course. He wasn’t a woman, he wasn’t going to magically be wired to lubricate himself. Honestly, James was lucky to have someone like Steve to lose his virginity to. Anyone else might not have been wise enough to show him exactly what to do.

Quite suddenly, James’ stomach knotted itself up again and he swallowed heavily. Dropping the packet to the bed, he looked up just in time to see Steve drop his underwear to the floor. Awed, James took the moment to admire Steve’s physique, looking over his tapered hips, muscled legs, the jut of his cock. He was bigger than he was, a decent girth with quite the bit of length to him. Worryingly, James wondered if he was going to be able to handle all of that length inside him, and he tentatively crossed his legs on the bedding. “This isn’t going to hurt is it?” he asked, meek and uncertain.

Steve chuckled. Kneeling on the bed, he pulled James' underwear and pants down the rest of the way, leaving the Deacon totally naked on the bed. “Your first time? It’ll most likely sting a little, but if I prep you enough, you won’t get hurt. But I need you to stay totally relaxed and trust me, alright? Don’t jerk away from me or clench up.”

James listened, taking his words to heart. He offered up a weak nod, squirming nervously on the bed. All at once he wanted to lay beneath Steve and let him take him however he pleased, but- but at the same time, he wanted to throw all of his clothes back on and hide himself away. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that Steve had better get a move on before he lost his nerve and hid himself away again. “Alright, Steve just- just tell me what to do.”

Steve chuckled. Nodding up to him, he knelt between James’ thighs and offered him a calming look. “Alright. First order of business: lay back and relax. Don’t move one bit, and let me take care of this. Alright?”

James nodded again. Taking a few calming breaths, James allowed himself to slump back into the bedding. He rested his head on the pillow beneath himself, allowing him the moment to stare up at the ceiling above him. He fought the urge to reach up and cover his stump with his free hand, mentally kicking himself for being so stupidly self-conscious. Steve wasn’t worried about his stump. Steve didn’t even seem to pay attention to it.

He was focused on-.. on…

“Huh?” James exclaimed. He’d felt Steve’s fingers wrapping around the backs of his thighs, lifting his legs up into the air. With a surprised noise, James looked up in time to see Steve drape his legs over his shoulders and lay down right at his backside. Before he could ask what Steve was doing, he watched in morbid fascination as Steve lowered his head. He felt a warm puff of air against his ass, the hot muggy air growing as Steve’s fingers pried his cheeks apart. Then, without warning, Steve leaned in, lapping his tongue out over the pucker of his muscle in long, soothing licks before spearing the tip against it in dainty little jabs.

James gasped. He stared at Steve, his eyes bugging wide as he watched his friend actually _licking_ his asshole. And the frightening, bizarre part about it was the fact that James actually _liked_ the way it felt! “Whoa! Whoa, Steve, wha-… wh-what are you doing?!” he squeaked.

Even still, as he tried his best to protest for Steve’s health, one particular twist of Steve’s tongue had James’ leg twitching on his shoulder at the pleasure, and he uttered a broken moan into the room. “What are you... are you doing down there?!”

Steve laughed. Pulling back just slightly, he looked up at James, his eyes wide and innocent. “Oral sex. I’m eating you out.”

“… That means nothing to me,” James said, just as confused as ever. “Why are you… that’s where…” he swallowed, shaking his head hard. “Isn’t it disgusting? Doesn’t it… it _taste_ bad?!”

Steve only laughed harder. Grinning wide, he pressed his forehead to James’ thigh, right by his half hard dick, and snickered so hard his shoulders shook James’ entire body. “No, Buck. It doesn’t taste bad. I mean, if you didn’t ever fuckin’ shower or clean yourself up down there, then yeah it’d be pretty horrible. Trust me, I’ve had clients that didn’t clean up.” He looked up at him, grinning widely. “You just taste like warm skin. I promise, you’re fine.”

James watched him. He didn’t know how to comprehend this. Did he believe Steve? Yeah, he did. He was the professional after all. He just wasn’t sure if he particularly liked Steve eating him out like this yet.

Maybe he should try again.

“O-Okay… I mean, if you’re sure it’s not, you know, dirty down there,” James said quietly. Looking down at him, James tentatively tightened his leg around Steve’s neck and tugged him a little closer. “But I don’t know if I like it yet.”

“ _Yet_?” Steve asked, giving him a knowing look.

James sighed. “Yet. Try again. Maybe just warn me if you’re going to do something new to me.”

Steve nodded. Holding his hand up in apology he smiled. “Okay, duly noted. I won’t forget to warn you again.” Smiling at him, Steve gently rubbed his thumbs over the creases of James’ hips, massaging him into relaxation. “Okay, I’m gonna try again now. Just relax.”

With that, Steve leaned down. This time, James was prepared for the feeling of his tongue on his pucker, and he relaxed the minute he felt that warm wetness on his skin. He lounged back into the bedding, feeling Steve’s tongue prodding and licking at him in gentle brushes. He moaned a little, tightening his legs around his shoulders as Steve continued to lick, suck, and work his lips around the ring of muscle.

Initial worry aside, it felt like heaven.

James inhaled, closing his eyes. He moaned a little at the feeling of Steve’s mouth working him over so thoroughly. He spread his knees a little, rocking his hips back to feel more of Steve’s mouth on him. He was entranced; the feeling of his tongue gliding over his hole had him whimpering out a litany of wordless praises, and each pass of his tongue only relaxed the Deacon further into the bedding. He allowed himself the moment to really enjoy it, soaking up each and every second of Steve’s wet, hot mouth surrounding his entrance to prepare him.

Whimpering into the room, James writhed on the bed. His hair pulled loose from the tie at his nape, fanning out around him as he squeezed his eyes shut. The pleasure was indescribable; with each lap of Steve’s tongue over his hole, James’ legs twitched harder, tightening around his shoulders as he drew himself closer to Steve’s mouth. His breath hitched in his chest each time Steve suckled the tense muscle, his throat clenching with every prod of his tongue. When one particular suck caught James off guard, he choked out a moan so loud, he was sure his neighbors would hear him.

“Oooh!” he gasped. His hand shot from the bedding down to Steve’s head, where he gripped his hair tightly in his fist. With a hand on him, James pulled Steve’s mouth closer to himself, pressing his ass further against his mouth for more friction. He was rewarded by Steve mouthing at his hole so firmly, he could feel every nerve in his lower half firing off at once. “Oh God, Steve… that- that’s so... that feels so good!” he gasped.

Steve hummed happily. Shaking his head, he rubbed his lips along James’ loosening pucker for a moment before pressing a kiss to his hole. Pulling back, he wiped his hand along his mouth to clear the saliva away, and offered him a smile. “Good, you’re doin’ really good. I’m gonna keep going now, but this time I’m gonna start opening you up.” Holding his hand up, he held up his index and middle finger, crooking them in a come hither motion. “Means I’m gonna finger you now to get you stretched. This takes a little while especially for someone as tight as you, so stay relaxed for me, okay baby?”

James nodded. Looking down at Steve, he offered him a weak nod before allowing his head to fall back against the bedding. He closed his eyes again, feeling his apprehension coming back a little at that thought. ‘ _Steve promised this won’t hurt…’_ he thought to himself nervously. He moved his hand from Steve’s hair and fisted the blankets beneath himself for support. ‘ _He knows what he’s doing…’_

To James’ relief, he felt Steve’s mouth return to his hole, his tongue lapping out against his muscle. At least this much was familiar to him now. He hummed in satisfaction beneath Steve’s onslaught, twisting his hips a little to get more of that friction against his pucker.

But this time, as Steve’s tongue lapped and laved over his hole, James felt something new. Pressure, growing against the ring of muscle. He opened his eyes and looked down; all he saw was Steve’s head between his legs, but that pressure against his entrance only grew. It almost stung, and he found himself squirming a little in discomfort.

Finally, that pressure grew so great, James found himself gasping in shock. He realized, then and there, that Steve was pressing his finger against his entrance, prodding and poking at him repeatedly. But before he could ask what Steve was doing now, at that moment, he felt the wet ‘ _slide’_ of his finger breaching him, pushing up, up, inside him.

He grimaced at the pressure inside him. He could feel his muscles trying to reject the foreign sensation, his walls clamping down against his finger to try and push him back out. He groaned a little, squirming against his hand as he tried, subconsciously, to pull away from him. “Steve! Steve, I don’t…!”

“Shhh,” Steve soothed. Pulling his mouth away, he left his index finger fully imbedded in James’ channel to look up at him. He offered a reassuring smile and nodded at him, oh so gently thrusting his finger up into his hole in slow, even pushes. “You’re doing good. You’re doing really good, baby, I promise.”

“Steve. I don’t…  I don’t know about this. It kind of hurts,” James whimpered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve leveled him with a serious look, his finger stilling inside him.

For a moment, James thought he would say yes. For a brief second, his mind clamped onto the idea of “yes get this out of me!” and he fought the urge to give in. He wasn’t sure about it… but at the same time, he didn’t want to give up. Steve had clients that did this all the time. Steve did this all the time. Surely it did feel good at some point.

“N-no. Don’t stop,” James gritted out. He looked down at Steve, frowning a little. “Just- is it supposed to feel this weird?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s totally normal for it to feel weird, remember?” Steve said confidently. “To be honest, I’d be a little worried if you _didn’t_ think this was a little painful.”

James nodded. Feeling a little better, he settled back into the bedding. He spread his legs a little and took a few deep breaths to push away the rest of his anxiety. To his surprise, he actually felt his walls loosen up just a little around Steve’s finger, the pressure not so obtrusive any more. “A-alright then. Keep going.”

Steve nodded. With permission given, he turned his attention back to his task, slowly thrusting his finger in and out of his channel as he continued to lap and mouth at his hole. James could feel his tongue curling and flexing against his hole for a moment, and he whimpered in delight at the feeling of Steve’s tongue slowly pushing inside him, breaching his tightness alongside his finger. “Nnnggh… okay. Okay it’s starting- starting to feel better now,” James moaned. He twisted back against his finger and tongue for more inside him.

He could feel Steve chuckling beneath him, feel his tongue continued to twist and prod inside him. The heat and pressure was so much, James felt like he was drunk on it. Whimpering into the quiet, his fingers found Steve’s hair again, tugging the blond strands as he continued to thrust his hips down against his mouth.

Minutes ticked by like this, and the longer Steve kept this up, the more James realized he was totally and irrevocably addicted to this. The pressure, the heat and wetness, all swirled and coalesced in a pressure so warm and velvety smooth inside him, it made James’ mind go blank. He was comfortably numb, the pleasure sending ripples of sensation through his limbs. His toes curled, his thighs trembled. He was drunk on it, little whimpers and pleas for ‘more, more’ escaping into the room.

James was so caught up in the feelings, he barely felt Steve shifting. Only when he felt a hand cupping his jaw, tilting his head down, did James come back to himself. He blinked his eyes open, his vision fuzzy around the edges. He looked up to see Steve giving him a loving look, and he felt his cheeks flushing at the edges. “W-what?”

Steve chuckled. He leaned in, pressing his lips to James’. It was a tender kiss, loving and comforting. “You’re doing so damn good, Buck.”

“You really think so?” James asked, hopeful.

“Oh yeah you are,” Steve nodded. He smirked, looking down to where his hand was still pressed between James’ legs and he chuckled. “How many fingers do you think I got inside you?”

James frowned. He could feel the pressure, the faint stretch of his hole around his fingers, but he couldn’t honestly tell just by feeling. “I dunno. How many?”

Steve beamed at him. Leaning down, he pressed a proud kiss to his forehead and nuzzled his hair. “Three.”

James gaped. Staring up at him, he uttered a confused noise before sitting up as much as he could. He bent at the waist enough to look down and to his total surprise, Steve was right. Three fingers, folded together, were embedded inside his hole, almost up to the third knuckle of Steve’s hand. He gasped, looking up at Steve in awe. “That… I-“

“Yeah. That’s right,” Steve chuckled. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. He lingered for a moment, letting James taste himself on his lips for a second before he pulled back. “You opened right up for me. I think you’re gonna be a pro at this.”

James grinned, full blown beaming up at him. He nodded, flexing his muscles around Steve’s fingers just a little. He jolted at the pressure inside his channel and he uttered a short little groan as he pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder. “Mm. It’s- it’s good,” he panted. Looking up at him he offered a small smile, his cheeks bright pink.

He wanted more. He wanted to feel Steve inside him now. Not just his fingers. He wanted to keep going, to feel his length in him. Surely if his fingers felt this good, then so should the act. “Please more, Stevie. Please keep going.”

Steve nodded. Looking down at him, he offered a reassuring look. Pushing his shoulders, he eased James back down to his back, and moved to kneel between his legs again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from his hole, leaving James feeling stretched and gaping. “Okay, baby. Same rules. Anytime you want me to stop, you tell me. Don’t hesitate at all, because this is it. Are you sure you want to do this?”

James nodded. Looking up at Steve from his back, he bent his leg up, propping his heel into the mattress as he smiled at him. “Yes. I’m sure. I just- I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold onto you.” At that, James offered him a sheepish look and glanced at his shoulder stump. “It’s just that my arm…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll keep you on your back for this first time. Missionary might be more comfortable for you anyway, since you don’t have to hold on.” Steve chuckled and sat back on his heels. Reaching out, he plucked up the condom from the bed and tore the foil wrapper open. He held the little rubber ring up and carefully rolled it onto his length, down to the base, before slicking his hand over his cock a few strokes.

James watched, fascinated as Steve stroked and fondled himself. He found himself licking his lips in delight, watching the sight with vast interest. When he saw Steve pick up the packet of lube and tear it open, he closed his eyes and relaxed against the bedding. He could smell the viscous fluid in the air, and his stomach did flip flops of excitement and anxiety. This was it. He was going to do this. He was going to officially have sex with Steve.

But why did he still feel so nervous?

“Steve…” he said. Opening his eyes, he watched as Steve slicked his cock up with the fluid before squeezing the remainder out of the packet into his palm. When Steve looked up at him, James found his throat drying up. He looked positively beautiful; his skin was flushed from his head down to his chest, and his hair was definitely messy from where James had tugged on the strands. His cock stood proudly from his hips, sheathed and slicked in plenty of lube, and his fingers were slippery and wet, ready to spread the lube all over James’ hole.

He struggled to speak, his eyes locked on Steve’s figure. After a moment, James cleared his throat, and offered him a smile. “Just go slow…”

Steve nodded. Smiling back at him, Steve scooted up the bedding to kneel between his thighs. With his free hand, he lifted James’ legs one at a time, and rested his calves on his shoulders. With the Deacon in position, Steve reached down and gently spread the lube over his entrance. He worked gently, smearing it over his ring and then spearing his fingers up into his loosened channel to slick him up inside.

James moaned, caught off guard by the cool sensation of the slippery lube. He let his head fall back to the bedding again, and he squeezed his fist into the sheets. He relaxed once again, allowing Steve to stroke and thrust his fingers up into him again and again. “Steve! Steve please… don’t tease me anymore!” he begged, desperately.

Steve tutted. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to his collarbone and shoulder stump soothing the Deacon in his spot. When he was certain he had him slicked up sufficiently, Steve removed his fingers from inside him, only to grip the base of his cock. “Okay, baby doll. Okay.” Looking up at him, Steve leveled him with a confident, comforting look, and he smiled. “Here goes…”

James nodded. Laying back against the pillow, he watched as Steve situated himself between his legs. He flexed his ankles a little on his shoulders, feeling the sex worker bend him almost in half. He could almost feel his thighs against his stomach, feel the way Steve’s fingers pulled at his left asscheek to spread him. He held his breath, watching and waiting as Steve slowly rocked forward.

When the blunt tip of his cock pushed against his entrance, James inhaled sharply. This was… this didn’t feel like his fingers. While his fingers were smooth and easily tapered, the tip of Steve’s dick was blunt and round, and wider than his fingers. He looked up at Steve, watching the utmost concentration on the blond’s face as he slowly curled his hips forward, pushing and thrusting against his hole.

The pressure at his entrance grew and grew with each thrust, and James grit his teeth against it. He squeezed his eyes shut, fingertips digging into the pillow beneath his head as he tried to hold on. He had to put his faith in Steve that he wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knew what he was doing. He just had to believe-

“OH!” James shouted. All of a sudden, with one good thrust, Steve breached his hole. He felt a ‘pop’ as the flared edge of his cock pushed past the ring of muscle. It wasn’t a sharp pain, but it was most certainly not as comfortable as his fingers. All over again, he felt his walls spasm with anxiety, trying to reject the head of Steve’s cock inside him. “Ooh… St-.. ow… ow!” he gasped, biting his own lower lip.

“Are you hurting?!” Steve gasped. James tore his eyes open to see the worried look on Steve’s face above him. His hips stilled, leaving just the tip of his cock inside him as he assessed his reaction. After a moment, he relaxed a little, brushing his fingers over James’ throat in soothing touches. “You’re clenching. Relax, baby. Breathe, okay? Breathe with me.”

With that, he leaned down, pressing James into a soothing kiss. Their lips danced and tugged, easily distracting James from the pressure inside him. Steve hummed soft and comforting, tugging on his lower lip before he pulled back from the kiss to give James a look. “You got this. You’re just tense, baby. Breathe with me and it’ll get better. I promise.”

James nodded. Whimpering, he inhaled slowly and forced his body to go lax beneath Steve. Like before, he could feel his walls slowly loosening up around him, allowing Steve the ability to move inside him. James inhaled whining through his nose before he opened his eyes to look up at Steve. “O-okay... okay.. I can do this…” he panted.

“Yeah you can, Bucky,” Steve reassured him. With tentative little ruts, Steve slowly began to thrust into him, pushing further past the resistance into his channel. With each thrust, he delved a little deeper inside James, eased by the relaxation of his muscles around him. “You got this. Almost there, baby. I’m almost all the way in.”

James nodded. Breathing heavily, he let go of the pillow and reached up to tighten his fingers into the back of Steve’s hair. He tugged the strands firmly, anchoring himself to Steve as he lay perfectly still beneath him. He gave full control over to Steve, allowing the sex worker to claim him fully. He realized, then and there, that the ‘pain” of being penetrated by Steve wasn’t really pain at all. As he relaxed further and further under him, James realized his initial shock had been just that: shock. He should have still been hurting at this point, but to his delight, the phantom ache he’d felt at being penetrated for the first time had gone away entirely, leaving a pleasant, white hot burn inside him as Steve’s dick slowly eased its way into his body.

As he felt himself splitting in two over him, James’ legs began to tremble with overstimulation. The deeper Steve’s cock entered him, the more it began to feel good, until his heat inside him was all consuming magma coursing through his veins.

Steve’s hips gave one deep roll at last, and James cried out. He tugged on Steve’s hair, pulling him closer before he felt the sex worker’s hips pushing flush into his cheeks. Panting heavily, James looked up at Steve, his mouth slack and his eyes wide. The feeling of his hipbones pushing up into his ass pulled him deeper into the moment, the feel of Steve’s balls brushing against his tailbone…

Holy cow. James was no longer a virgin.

“H-hey… hey look at that,” Steve laughed. He looked down between them to see their hips joined totally, and he gave James a proud look. “You did it. I’m all the way in, baby.”

James panted. He looked down between them, seeing Steve connected to him so intimately. He whimpered, looking up at his partner in awe. Tentatively, he shifted his legs, moving them from Steve’s shoulders, down to his waist, where he wrapped them around his torso to hold on. This time, with the new angle of his own legs, his walls clamped around Steve’s cock in a comfortable position, drawing him closer to himself. James groaned, leaning in to press his lips to Steve’s chest carefully.

“Oh God… please…” James panted. He let go of the pillow and wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders. With little resistance, he pulled Steve down so that their chests were touching, and he wrapped his arm around his back holding him close. “Please move… please, Stevie…”

Steve nodded. Pressing one hand into the mattress, he leveraged himself up just a bit for proper angle, slowly withdrawing from his hole. With little short ruts, he thrust in shallow and slow, getting James used to the feeling of being claimed like that. After a few moments, he tucked his hips under, and rocked up as he thrust back into him, slow and firm.

James keened. As Steve rolled back into his body, he felt the head of his cock brush something inside himself that sent sparks shooting out of every pore in his body. His fingertips dug into Steve’s shoulder, and he tossed his head back into the pillow with a cry. “OH GOD!” he cried out loudly. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he tightened his legs around his waist to draw him closer. Instinctively he knew to bear down on Steve’s lap from this position and he did his best, rocking his hips back against his thighs until he could feel his length continue to press deeper inside him. “Oh God, Steve… please! It’ feels… s-so good!” he panted ragged and wet.

Steve laughed, though it was breathy at best. He looked up between them, finding James’ attention. He managed to capture the Deacon’s gaze on him and James found himself enraptured by his gaze. “Yeah, baby, I can keep goin’,” he breathed, leaning into a kiss. With a gentle caress, their lips brushed again, sending shocks of pleasure through James’ figure as he lay beneath him.

James whimpered. The kiss was soft, almost impossibly so, and he tightened his legs around Steve’s waist to draw himself closer. As he did, he felt the slick of friction between them as Steve withdrew from his body to push back in again. This time, the pressure had eased considerably, leaving him gaping and raw with want for Steve’s cock. He moaned into the back of Steve’s throat, his fingernails gouging into Steve’s shoulders as tightly as he could hold on. “Steve! Steve… move- move faster, please,” he panted. He felt light headed with pleasure, and it was a struggle to hold his head up into Steve’s kiss.

Seeming to catch onto his discomfort, Steve nipped at James’ lip to get his attention. When the Deacon pulled back to give him a quizzical look, Steve gripped his shoulders and pushed him back to the bed. Laying him out flat on his back, Steve readjusted the two of them. He hiked James’ hips up, curling him to lay more on his upper back, so that his legs wrapped around his chest.

Once he’d gotten him in a more comfortable position, Steve stretched out to cover james’ body entirely with his own. He pressed his elbows into the bedding and pushed his fingers into the long strands of his hair as he smiled down at him. Leaning in, he pushed James back into a kiss, using the pillow as support for the Deacon’s neck as he thrust up into him. He picked up a more even pace, withdrawing and pushing himself back and forth inside James’ walls as he nipped and nibbled James’ full, swollen lips. “That’s good.. that’s very good, baby. Just stay relaxed under me. I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry,” he murmured in an unending litany of praise.

James whimpered into his kisses. His fingertips tightened further on Steve’s left shoulder blade, holding him closer as he rocked back and forth on the length of his dick. By now, his whole body had gone totally lax beneath his touch, opening up for him and accepting his thrusts with ease. He squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensations inside him. Already, he could feel his insides turning to liquid again; his thighs burned and screamed with impending release, and he rocked his hips back against Steve’s cock in frantic little rolls. “Nngh… Steve! Steve I’m already going to come again!” he panted wetly.

Steve chuckled. He pulled back, bracing his hands into the bedding as he stared down at him. “Don’t fight it, Bucky. If you wanna come again, then do so. It’s not gonna mean you did anything wrong, okay?”

James nodded. It was a frantic gesture, and he twisted his head to press his cheek into the bedding. However, with the new angle of Steve’s hips, James felt his release ebb away a little bit, leaving him feeling a little wrung out from the push-pull of sensation. He grunted into the pillow, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his head around what he was feeling.

God, he needed more. He needed more like he needed air to breathe. With a choked cry, he twisted his fingers into the sheets beneath him as Steve’s hips picked up pace. He could feel his whole body being jarred by the motions, bouncing back and forth on his dick as Steve’s hips broke the tender, beginner’s pace he’d set for them and began to claim him with a little more enthusiasm. “Steeeeve!” he gasped as one particular thrust lifted his hips right off the bedding. “What do I do now?! Oh _please!_ _Nngh!_ I can’t… I don’t!”

Steve panted through his nose. James could feel drops of sweat dot his chest from where they rolled off of Steve’s shoulders, the blond leaning in again. But this time, instead of kissing him, he turned his head and pressed his lips to one nipple on James’ chest. As he did so, he reached down and grabbed James’ hand to yank it from the bedding. Once he’d gotten his fingers free, Steve pulled his hand up and pressed James’ palms to his chest. “You know how you found out my nipples are sensitive. Why don’t you play with them? Give you something to do with your hand then,” Steve suggested with a wink.

James gasped. He nodded eagerly, opening his eyes to look up at Steve with reverence. Mouth agape, he looked down to where they were joined, watching Steve’s length disappear into him again and again as his hips jerked and shook him. He could feel the burn between them growing hotter still, burning him up from the inside out.

God he was exhausted and he wasn’t even doing any of the work!

Right then and there, James decided he wasn’t just going to lay there. Steve had suggested he play right back. And play he would do. Good thing he had strong core muscles.

With a hiss of delight, James leaned up wrapping his lips around one of Steve’s nipples. He sucked and licked at it, copying what Steve had done to his own chest just a moment ago, before he scraped his teeth over the bud of skin. Above him, he listened to Steve’s breath catch in his chest, and he felt his hips raised, sharp and firm. James keened, wrapping his arm around Steve’s back as he held on for dear life. But he never stopped suckling, nipping and kissing that skin. Steve wouldn’t stop for anything, so why should James?

“ _Auun!!”_ Steve gasped low in his throat. He rocked his hips forward, fucking up into James’ body with renewed vigor until the two of them could feel the bedding shuddering beneath them. “Oh fuck, yeah, do that again!”

James could feel Steve’s figure trembling viciously above him, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Or maybe it was that thing he’d done with his tongue just now. Testing it, he twirled and twisted his tongue over the bud again, before sucking hard on it to let his teeth pinch it just slightly. He was rewarded with Steve’s cry of pleasure, and the feeling of his dick slamming into his prostate once again.

James almost screamed. He dropped back to the bedding, losing grip on Steve’s figure as the sex worker began to assault his prostate with each and every thrust. Once again, he felt his body tensing up around Steve, clamping down with each thrust that split him in two. Panting ragged into Steve’s ear, he wrapped his arm around the back of his neck to ride out his pleasure. ”Ahhh! St-teve! I’m … I’m-!”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence. As he clenched up around Steve’s cock, he felt the blond reach between them and take _his_ length into hand to stroke him. For a brief moment, James lost all sense as he bucked wildly beneath Steve’s body. Up into his fist, down against his length, James was completely at a loss. He was going to explode. He was going to die. James felt like he was going to rupture out of every orifice of his body, leaving him nothing but visceral pleasure left over.

“That’s it baby,” Steve panted. He stroked and rocked his hips, drilling James back down into the bedding. He leaned in to press kisses all the way up James’ throat, before he wrapped his lips around his earlobe and nipped sharply. “Come for me, Bucky… C’mon. Come for me, Father.”

That was all it took. With a strangled shout, James seized up beneath Steve’s body, his legs a vise around his waist. With a wail of overstimulation, he came a second time, painting is seed across Steve’s chest this time. He cried and cried, arching into the pleasure until he was bowed back against the bed, contorted in the throes of his bliss. He had no idea which way was up or down anymore, and simply held tightly to Steve’s figure as his body pulsed and throbbed with the waves of his bliss.

Only when he could feel the ebb of his release finally abating, did he relax. He slumped back into the bedding, exhausted and totally wrung out by the pleasurable waves that coursed through him. He felt numb all over and he went boneless on the mattress, his legs splayed out on either side of Steve’s hips as he lay beneath him, unmoving. He breathed heavily, ragged and torn apart by the intensity of his release, and begging God to let him never stop feeling this kind of bliss again in his life.

Panting, James tore his eyes open to see Steve hovering above him. The blond was breathing heavily too, his head bowed forward as he held himself up from his chest. Frowning, James reached up and cupped his palm over Steve’s cheek. “Steve… are you okay?” he asked, though the action took more effort than he thought.

Steve nodded. Tearing his gaze from where it was locked on James’ stomach, he looked up at him to offer a brilliant smile. “Yeah, I’m good, baby. I’m real good.” Leaning in, Steve pressed James back into the pillow. He plundered him with a relieved kiss, his fingers moving from the bedding to grip James’ hair gently. “Jesus Christ you did so fuckin’ good, Bucky… And dare I say, you got yourself a little priest kink goin’ on there?”

James flushed, though he couldn’t’ help the smile that touched his lips. He looked up at Steve, lifting his leg to gently run his thigh along Steve’s hip. “I came again. I think… I think I came without you. I’m sorry,” he apologized. Looking a little sheepish, he reached down and ran his index finger through the mess on their bellies, his dried come from his first orgasm and his fresh release. He looked up at Steve to offer him an apologetic look, only to find himself met with the sight of Steve’s laughter. “What’s so funny?”

Steve chuckled. Shaking his head, he leaned back on his knees. With a careful gesture, he withdrew totally from James’ body, looking down at his flagging cock. The condom was stuck to him, coated inside with his come. Steve smirked, looking up at James with a nod. “Nope. We came together. Good job, you know. I don’t ever come at the same time as my clients. You’re the only one.”

James stared at him. He tried to sit up, but the phantom feeling of Steve’s cock inside him, the burn of friction… hell, his whole body was exhausted. He groaned, slumping back against the bedding to stare up at the ceiling. He felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. He whined a little, squirming back into the pillows with distaste. “I’m exhausted.” He complained good-naturedly.

Steve laughed. Clambering off the bed, he plucked the condom from his dick and tossed it into the trashcan with a sigh of contentment. “I don’t blame you. First time having sex and you had two orgasms. You really have to be wiped.” Looking up at James, Steve offered him a reassuring look. “Just relax. I’m gonna go get something to clean us up.”

James nodded. With that, he slumped back into the bedding, staring up at the ceiling. Absentmindedly, he reached across and ran his palm over his shoulder stump as his mind sluggishly recounted what he had just done. He’d never felt so amazing in his life. Steve had taken something he’d usually considered vile and dirty and made him feel like he was walking on a cloud. It was the closest James had ever felt to actual Paradise, and he found himself instantly addicted to the thought.

He definitely wanted to have sex with Steve again, very soon.

Tearing his gaze away from the ceiling, James looked over to see Steve return to the room. He held a washcloth in hand, and knelt down on the bed to begin cleaning up their stomachs from his release. “Wow… I really made a mess,” James said, looking up at Steve. He watched him reverently as Steve cleaned up his belly and between his legs, and he found his heart thundering wildly in his chest. He’d never had feelings like this around anyone else in his life. He’d assumed he was falling in love with Steve before.

Now, he knew it for a fact.

“It’s okay. Just means you really enjoyed yourself,” Steve chuckled. Once he’d cleaned up the two of them, Steve scooted off the bed enough to pull the blankets down. Without a word, he crawled into bed, yanking James into the blankets with himself. He carefully wrapped himself around James’ figure, pressing little kisses to his hair every so often. “Did you enjoy yourself, Buck?”

James huffed, a happy sound leaving him. He snuggled up into Steve’s front, wrapping his only arm around his shoulders as he tucked himself beneath his chin. He hummed an appreciative sound at the little kisses Steve left behind on his hair, nodding once before looking up at him again. “Yes, I did. It was wonderful.” He murmured. Leaning up, James pressed his lips to Steve’s, lingering for a moment as he took in his scent. “Thank you for showing me that. Maybe… maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Steve laughed. He nodded to James, brushing his fingers through his hair before tucking them both into the bedding. “Hell yeah we can. But tonight, you sleep. You had a very big day, baby, and you need to rest okay? Good night, Bucky.”

James smiled up at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Goodnight, Steve.” He pressed his temple to Steve’s shoulder, holding him close to himself in comfort. He closed his eyes, feeling the pull of exhaustion tugging at the corners of his consciousness. But as he drifted off to sleep in his arms, James felt a wiggle of something in his chest. Something akin to guilt. He pushed the thoughts from his head, and instead focused on listening to the soothing pulse of Steve’s heartbeat beneath his ear. He had no reason to feel guilty. Steve was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was happy with Steve. He hadn’t done anything wrong by having sex with him. He loved Steve. He was allowed to have sex with Steve if he loved him.

Surely, even his own career path would understand that… right?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose the title "Pillar of Salt" for this chapter because of James losing his virginity. This goes back to the Old Testament with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Lot's wife turning to salt. Obviously that doesnt happen in this story. I just thought it would be a good way to tie in James' experience to the biblical aspect of his career choice :)


	6. Martyrs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after comes with a heavy price for Steve and James, and what should have been a beautiful union, turns into something far more damning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY. SHIT.
> 
> I UPDATED! I ACTUALLY FINALLY UPDATED!!!! *Screaming*
> 
> I am so, so, soooooooo unbelievably sorry for taking so long to update this story. Life ended up getting in the way, I got sidetracked with the Stucky Big Bang, and then decided like a crazy person to do a halloween themed story on top of it. Plus with getting a new job (and now having to get a second full time job on top of it), holy CRAP was this a struggle to finish. It took me much longer to get back into the groove of the story than i thought, but at long last, I have found my niche again! Please forgive me for the massive delay in updating, i will work very hard not to let that happen again. I promise!
> 
> ANYWAY!
> 
> So this chapter was going to be vastly different, but after careful discussion with my beta, it was decided that I would rewrite the chapter to fit the flow of the story much better. You'll all hate me because the original chapter was supposed to be much happier than this one, but for realism's sake (And the fact that I'm a bastard i'm sorry), it turned into this sob fest. There will be much frustration, screaming, crying, and general "OMG" going on here. You all have been warned.
> 
> And now, with that ever so vague but ominous note, I will go hide in my bunker now, and await the fallout. Enjoy! :D

**18 years ago**

James sat back with a sigh, his feet resting on the legs of his computer chair. He pressed his elbows into the arms on either side of him, propping himself up as he stared at the computer screen in front of him, diligently working on his term paper just like a responsible teen should. Cutting through his thoughts the fan in the monitor hummed loudly. He smirked to himself as he snuck yet another admiring peek at the side, where he could see through the transparent blue siding to the little lights inside that lit the giant thing with a soft little glow. 

He was a simple seventeen year old. He didn’t want for much in this world at all, but he couldn’t help feeling proud of his brand new computer. Yet, as materialistic as it was, what teenager  _ wouldn’t _ be proud of their shiny new piece of technology? He was leaving for college in a few months, so his parents had decided that his Christmas gift that year would be a new computer he could use. Of course, James had been over the moon when they’d suggested that pricey gift to him (as long as it was for school work only, they’d said). Hoping not to push his luck with their generous offer, he’d originally suggested a conservative white computer monitor and tower, excited enough that he’d be getting anything at all. However, his hopes couldn’t be contained for long. After his parents had given him one last chance to change his mind, he sheepishly asked if he could get the fancier model instead, only to fail tremendously at hiding his pure elation when they’d actually followed through with his last request.

After admiring his computer for the umpteenth time that hour, he turned his attention back to the screen to resume his homework, only to hear a knock coming from his bedroom door. Looking up, he spotted his father, George entering the room. He was holding up a letter in his hand. “Hey, hotshot. Working on homework, I hope. None of that space pinball going on.”

“No, dad. Just homework,” James replied. He carefully moved the mouse, clicking an icon on the screen to show his father the document he was typing. “Working on my final paper. They gave us a couple months to finish it, since it’s going in for my final term grade.”

George nodded, before smiling down at his son. He ruffled his hair a bit before dropping the letter into his lap. “Got mail.”

“What is it?” James asked. He picked up the letter, running his left index finger under the flap to separate the glue. Inside the envelope, he found a packet of information, tri-folded and practically bursting out of the white envelope. At the center of the packet was a single piece of stationary emblazoned with the Chicago Theological Seminary logo across the top. Surprised, James read a little further, before he caught sight of the words “congratulations applicant” at the top of the letter. He swallowed around the sudden swell of anxiety crawling up his throat. “They accepted my application?” James asked, holding up the letter as if waiting for George to clear up some sort of misconception.

George smiled. Clearly, he knew what had been inside that letter before he’d even given it over to James. “Well, don’t just bounce around the room in excitement, Bucky. This is a good thing! Your mother is downstairs calling all the relatives now to tell them the great news. I mean, we knew you’d be a shoo-in for the seminary, but to actually have the acceptance letter makes it real. This is the first day of the rest of your life, kiddo! That’s wonderful!”

James stared at his father, his eyes wide. Dumbfounded, he glanced back down at the acceptance letter in his hands, before he swallowed. “It’s… gee, it’s great,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward position. “I mean… I mean that’s cool and all…”

As he hemmed and hawed around his response, he looked up to see George giving him a weighted look of disappointment. His earlier smile faded away entirely, and he stared down at his son, his shoulders slumped in confusion. “James, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? I thought you wanted to go to the seminary. That’s what you told your mother last year when you started applying for colleges.”

James sighed. Looking up at his father, he offered him a sheepish look before tentatively reaching into his desk drawer. From within, he pulled out another envelope, this time with the Indiana State University leaf printed on the front. He held it up to his dad, watching as George took the envelope from him and withdrew a second acceptance letter for the public college. “I want to go there, instead…”

George stared at the letter and his smile completely vanished. His grip shifted, crinkling the paper some before he looked at his son, his gaze boring into him like a hot laser through steel. “When did this happen? We thought you only applied to Catholic colleges and the seminary.”

“I sent them my application last month, along with my transcripts.” James said, all but mumbling now. He folded his hands in his lap, looking away from his dad with shame. “I… I changed my mind about my major. I don’t want to go into Theology anymore. I want to go into Psychology, and Indiana State has a pretty good program. Besides, they offered me a really good scholarship, and-”

“That’s not the point, James,” George said, all but growling at him. “When exactly were you going to tell us that you applied to that college? Or that you got accepted? What, did you just think you’d magically show up there and we’d have no idea what school you were going to? Why did you lie to us??”

“I didn’t lie!” James said, looking up at him in desperation. “I was gonna tell you. I just got the letter yesterday.”

“So why didn’t you tell us you applied there? We were under the impression you only wanted to go to a catholic college because you  _ repeatedly reminded _ us for three years that you only wanted to earn your Divinity degree.  _ Three years _ !” George threw the letter down onto the desk, glaring at his son so hard the sun dimmed under his wrath. “Speak, James!”

James flinched, cowering from George’s rage. He knew this was coming. Ever since he’d made the mental decision to back out of his theology plans, he knew the backlash would be intense. His entire family had been priming him for some sort of position in the church ever since he was a little boy. Growing up being told what to think, what beliefs were appropriate, and that God’s way was the only way, James knew the moment he opened his mouth and admitted he wanted to follow a secular path, the war would begin.

“I-I changed my mind!” James protested, though he kept his eyes averted. “Last semester, I had a psychology class with an adjunct professor from Indiana State… it was the best class I’d ever taken. I asked him about it and what I needed to do to get a psychology degree, and he gave me all this information. I-I didn’t tell you guys about it because… I wanted to make sure I had the acceptance letter in my hand before I showed you. I knew you were gonna be mad but-”

“ _ Mad _ ? Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it,” George yelled. Pacing the room in front of James, he folded his hands behind his back before he seemingly relaxed a moment. “So after all this time… after growing up telling us you wanted nothing more than to work for the church, some hot-shot from a public school tells you a few lies about another degree, and you change your mind at the drop of a hat. How easily swayed are you James? I thought you were smarter than that.”

James stared at his father, feeling absolutely gutted by what he said. He couldn’t honestly believe that his dad of all people, would take his good news and trash it so easily. Dammit, even the seminary hadn’t offered him a scholarship to go there. Apparently though, that didn’t matter… not if it didn’t align with what his father wanted. “So… are you serious? You’re seriously gonna be pissed at me because I don’t want to go to the college you want me to go to?!” James exclaimed, feeling a swell of indignation in his chest.

“Watch your language!” George snapped. Jabbing a finger in his direction, he approached James, backing him into his seat. “You forget, we’re the ones paying for your education. Partial scholarship or not, it’s difficult paying for a psychology degree. Think about that before you go and tell us what school we’ll be paying for you to attend.”

James winced. He’d never snapped at his parents before. But now, as he listened to his father literally threaten his college career with his checkbook unless he complied, he’d never felt so betrayed in his life. “That’s not fair … it’s my degree. It’s my career.” he said, his voice lacking the conviction he needed to argue.

George stared at James before he straightened up. “This is not up for discussion.” Stopping mid-rant, he picked up the letter, and held it up to him. “This goes in the garbage, and I’ll be discussing this with your mother. The fact that you thought you could pull the wool over our eyes, James… I’m absolutely astounded.”

James stared at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking. He knew he couldn’t win this argument. When his father put his foot down about something, God himself couldn’t convince him to change his mind. His father was not going to allow James to go to Indiana State. He wasn’t going to be allowed to study the degree he wanted, because George didn’t care what James wanted. It was what the family expected, and James knew he’d done the unthinkable, attempting to break the mental cycle that had been set for him ever since he was a baby. 

There was no way he was going to break seventeen years of conditioning with one acceptance letter and a half-assed prayer. He’d been a fool to think otherwise.

“Yes, sir,” James said, miserably. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll call CTS tomorrow and tell them I accept their offer.”

George relaxed, his shoulders slumping. He offered James a stiff look, the corner of his mouth turning up in a caricature of a smile. “Very well then. But don’t think this is over. I’m still having that discussion with your mother, and you bet she’ll want to give you her two-cents on the matter.” He pointed at the computer one last time before taking the envelope in his hands and ripping it down the middle. “Go back to your homework. I want it all done tonight. We have church tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” James mumbled. He didn’t look up as his father left the room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. Cupping his hands over his face, he stifled a scream of frustration, tucking himself into a little ball in his chair. He hated this. He didn’t understand why his parents wouldn’t be happy for him. He’d gone and done this all on his own, without their help. He’d gotten himself a scholarship, when none of the other colleges had offered the same. These were all steps towards a fulfilling adulthood. Any parent should have been proud of him for taking the initiative like that, and choosing to set his own course.

But he supposed it didn’t matter. His family had had a plan for him ever since he was a baby, and he’d broken the status quo. He’d rejected their wants, and tried to make his own decisions when they’d done everything that they could to raise him right. Maybe his father was right… maybe it was his destiny to be ordained and follow the Church just like they’d raised him to. Who was he to break that carefully constructed order? No one, that’s who. Honor they father and thy mother, that’s what he’d been taught. And he’d dishonored them both by trying to change the course of his life against their wishes.

James gave up, then and there. It hadn’t been fair of him to expect that they would just accept his wishes. He was just the child. He didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to deciding what his life would be like. It was theirs, and it had always been, from the moment of his conception, and the following years of his life. 

No. It wasn’t even his life… it was  _ their _ life, sculpted like their perfect statue of their pride that had suddenly broken itself from its foundation in an attempt to navigate into the world, without a care for its sculptor’s wants. Of course, they would be upset by that. Why he couldn’t see that, was proof of his own teenage arrogance and he hated himself for thinking he had the authority to usurp their control. 

His job was to be the good son, the obedient child that did as they asked of him. His job was to go to the school they approved of, and grow up the way they wanted him to grow up. That was his purpose in life. That was the purpose of  _ all  _ those martyred for the greater good. His parents had a plan for James Barnes, and he was a damned soul if he thought he could change that.

* * *

 

**Present Day**

Steve sniffed, burying his face into the pillow a little deeper. Feeling himself dancing on the fuzzy fringes of wakefulness, he fought the inevitable for a while longer and tucked himself further into the soft blankets. He didn’t want to get up. He just wanted to lay there, soaking up the warmth of the blankets on his bare skin and just relish the feeling of being so totally relaxed and happy. Fuck waking up for important things like work and responsibilities. He just wanted to sink right back into his puffy cloud of comfort and dream of pretty Deacons with chocolate brown hair and liquid blue eyes.

Despite his very best efforts, the sunlight that peeked into the room sliced across his face where he lay, urging him to rise and greet the day. Finally deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to force himself to go back to sleep, Steve opened his eyes and glanced up at the window. The sun wasn’t too high in the sky yet, just sneaking in hints of frosty morning light between the curtains. Steve turned to his back, his arms splayed out on either side of him as he stared at the ceiling for a second. He could feel James’ side of the bed was cool to the touch; he must have been up for a while. Vaguely, Steve wondered if James was feeling a little sore from their activities, and an amused laugh escaped him at the thought.

For a time, Steve’s mind replayed the night before, cataloguing each moment they’d shared together and saving them in his memories. Taking James’ virginity hadn’t been about conquest. In fact, Steve hadn’t actually been looking to get off at all. Even if they fucked and he didn’t orgasm once, Steve still would have chalked it up as the best sex he’d ever had in his life. Just watching James come apart at the seams, feeling things he’d never felt, and blossoming beneath him had been the most orgasmic experience in his thirty-five years on this Earth. He’d sell his  _ soul _ just to see that moment replayed forever in his mind.

Steve had never seen anyone look so innocent in bed with him, nor had he enjoyed himself so thoroughly. Even his first-time clients hadn’t been as good as James; too many of them had tried too hard to make it like a porno, instead of just reveling in the pleasure for its own sake. James, untouched by any sort of expectations, had simply given into his body and felt every second of every action right down to his very soul.

Smiling to himself, Steve folded his hands behind his head as he replayed the memory in his mind, coveting the moments like rose-tinted fragments of precious whispers he could call upon at any time. He could still feel the brush of James’ skin against his own, the way his fingertips dug into his shoulder and side. He could remember the way his lips had brushed over his neck, or his fingernails scraped over his nipple in an experimental little touch. He could remember exact details of each and every second, and he was going to treasure those feelings for as long as he lived.

Steve had never really considered finding a boyfriend or girlfriend for himself. Considering his line of work, he got all the sex he needed from his job and he loved every second of it. But when it came to James, Steve was definitely craving the feeling of that man’s love in his life. He needed that domesticity with James like he did food or air. He’d been with plenty of people, but never had any left such a profound impact on Steve’s very soul. 

He didn’t know what it was that made James so different from all the others, to be quite honest. In fact, considering the vast differences in their lives, they shouldn’t have been compatible at all. But there was just  _ something _ about James that drew Steve in like the pull of a collapsed star, and Steve had been blinded by the supernova that was James. Every little action he did was met with sheer adoration from Steve, from the way he crinkled his nose when he laughed, or how his eyes burned when he spoke about what he was passionate about. Everyone was always so painfully normal; no matter what extracurriculars they did outside the bedroom, or how exciting they seemed at face value, none of them had even a shred of uniqueness in their souls. They all saw the world the exact same, in monochrome hues that society had painted itself to be, and never once thought to appreciate and accept the nuances of humanity that made the world so unbelievably unique. Truth be told, it mattered to Steve what people thought of him, not because he needed the validation, but because he craved the normality of just being a guy doing what he loved for a living without being judged. He never got that from people because none of them looked past “Steve the sex worker” to see “Steve the human being”.

James was completely different. He saw Steve as a man first and foremost; a man that deserved attention and affection simply because he wanted it, not because it was something he paid for. James saw the world around him with stars in his eyes. Everyone was perfect and deserved only the best. There wasn’t a shred of indecency, or a mean bone in his body. James was just James; perfection wrapped up in a beautiful, scarred body. He  had more heart to give the world than all the combined souls that faced daily life with skepticism and pessimistic rancor.

Then and there, Steve knew. He’d never been one to follow the beaten path. He always looked for the unique, the extraordinary in life. He saw beauty in a broken spined book that became too undesirable to sell. He adored painting things everyone else overlooked and capturing them on canvas because he thought they were too interesting to be ignored any longer. What he saw in James was not a man that had signed his life away to years of rigid order and religious decree. He saw a man that took a job with such a history of rigidity and turned it into a career that enriched lives and made the world a little brighter. To say Steve was attracted to that man was a gross understatement. He was  _ drawn _ to him, unable to break orbit from him and drifting closer and closer until his adoration and love were fused white hot to Bucky’s spirit. He was doomed and in love, and there was no other way he would have it.

All at once, Steve couldn’t stand being in the bed alone anymore. He wanted to find James, scoop him into his arms, and shower happy kisses along his neck. He needed to hold him, steal him away from the rest of the world and claim “Mine. James is mine”. Fuck, he’d proclaim his devotion to him from the steeple of St Michael’s if it meant getting to wholly possess that innocent, beautiful man, no holds barred. Steve knew he’d do whatever it took to make James happy. Clearly, the Deacon hadn’t had much of that in his life, and Steve would be damned if he let him live another moment doubting the fact that he deserved the gift of the moon and stars. 

With that thought in mind, Steve sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. Clambering to his feet, Steve bent down and grabbed his clothes from the floor to dress and vacated the room. He expected to find James in the living room, probably reading over the paper, or nursing a cup of coffee. Maybe he’d sneak up behind him and hug him close like the male lead in a sappy romance movie would do. That thought alone made Steve smile brighter than the sun as he exited the bedroom.

However, that’s not what he got. The moment he left the bedroom, Steve was hit with the strong scent of cigarette smoke. Odd, really. He hadn’t seen any ashtrays in the brownstone before. Was Bucky actually smoking inside the house? It would be a strange turn of events, considering how clean and untouched the place was.

Pushing the confusion aside, Steve made his way down the hallway to the living room, fighting back the urge to worry about this sudden foible in James’ perfectly crafted world. But just as he made his way into the living room, the smell of cigarette smoke was overtaken by the scent of food cooking in the kitchen and he relaxed. Oh, that’s it. James had gone to the kitchen to cook breakfast. For all Steve knew, maybe James smoked when he cooked in the morning. It was a little strange that his house had never smelled like ashes before, but Steve decided not to worry about it. After all, he’d only spent the night there once before, and he left before James woke up. Perhaps this was a normal morning routine for the Deacon.

Emboldened by the thought, Steve pushed on and made his way into the kitchen. There he found James at the stove, his back to the door, and a spatula in his only hand. He was wearing a pair of thin sleep pants and a tank top, his shoulder stump clearly visibly. At his side, a small mason jar sat on the counter with a thin layer of ash inside it and the sight of smoke wafting from his head mingled with the steam from the food frying in the pan. Steve hesitated at the door, watching as James put the spatula down to tap off the ashes into the Mason jar and screw the cigarette butt back between his lips.

Even from this side of the room, Steve could see the apprehension in his shoulders where he stood. He watched as James worked on, absentmindedly stirring the eggs in the pan before turning the flame down low, a mechanical response in the next phase of the cooking process. Peeking past him, Steve could see the food he was cooking; the eggs looked a little brown around the edges. That wasn’t a good sign. James was a pretty damn good cook, and if he was burning something as simple as eggs, something clearly was distracting his train of thought.

Clearing his throat, Steve stepped into the kitchen. He watched as James tensed further, his fingers tightening on the handle of the spatula before he turned on his heel to look up at Steve. Instantly, Steve was hit with a wave of dismay. Bucky’s eyes were red around the edges and puffy. James wasn’t just distracted by some wayward thought in his mind… he’d been crying.

“Hey,” Steve said with false cheer. He crossed the kitchen floor on light feet, looking down at the eggs in the pan. They were most certainly burnt on the edges, leaving them a mess in the pan and stuck to the spatula in crispy flakes. “Cooking breakfast huh? Smells pretty good.”

James didn’t answer him. His shoulders remained rigid at his sides as he stared down at the pan, clearly upset. “I burned them, and didn’t have any more. I tried fixing them with some sausage, but… it didn’t really work,” James said quietly. The cigarette hung precariously at the corner of his lips, and the ashes looked just about ready to fall directly into the pan beneath him.

Steve frowned. With a surreptitious hand, he gently pushed the pan away from James, before turning to face him. “Hey that’s okay. It’s early, and I know I wouldn’t be able to focus enough to cook at this hour,” he said before offering a forced laugh. There was a pang in his chest when James didn’t react to his words. “Hey. Is uhm— is everything okay?” Steve asked. He turned to James fully, placing his hands on his shoulders as he leveled the other with a careful look. “You look like something’s really bothering you.”

James didn’t answer him. Instead, he reached up and pulled the cigarette from his lips, shoving the butt into the mason jar before looking away from Steve. “Yeah— I mean, no. Yes, there’s something bothering me,” he said quietly. In his grip, Steve could feel James begin to tremble a little, and his fingers tightened on his shoulders. “I’m… I’m not- it’s not you. I’m not…” he stopped, inhaled and closed his eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

Steve listened. His heart clenched in his chest at those words and he frowned heavily. “You're not mad at me. What’s that mean?”

James sighed; the action was tremulous and he forced himself to turn away from Steve, staring at the wall opposite them. Even from this angle, Steve could see the fresh tears welling in his eyes and threatening to spill down his already ruddy cheeks. He reached out to brush the tear tracks away from the Deacon’s cheeks in a soothing touch.

He hadn’t expected James to react the way he did. The night before, James would have leaned into his touch, seeking out a shred of comfort from that innocent gesture. He might have even nuzzled Steve’s hand where it was pressed to his skin. This time, however, James suddenly leaned away, almost lurching away from Steve’s touch, and the electric shock of his rejection wounded him more deeply than he’d ever imagined. “Bucky-”

“ _ Please, don’t _ ,” James said, his voice locked up tight in his throat. He shook his head, taking a step away from Steve. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Don’t make what worse?” Steve asked. He forced back the wall of emotion, that all encompassing ache of loss that overtook him in an instant, and he kept his eyes locked on James. “Bucky, what the hell is going on? Talk to me, please.”

James shivered. He didn’t look up at Steve, his eyes kept firmly locked on the floor in front of him. Without a word, he reached up and wiped away his own tears, scrubbing at his cheek a little more forcefully than necessary before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Last night... I made a horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have done what I did…”

Steve listened to him and his stomach clenched up like a vice. All the good feelings he’d had evaporated in an instant, and he felt as if he’d shrivel up into nothing. James thought that what they had done had been a mistake. Their night together, as beautiful and perfect that it had been… it hadn’t meant anything. “Bucky, what… hold on,” he said. He held his hand up to stop the conversation, though he realized maybe it had been to catch himself if he swayed. “Last night, you think… but what about…” he stopped again, shaking his head. “Buck, tell me. Why do you think last night was a mistake?”

It was a logical question. Frankly, he was proud that he could ask it as coherently as he did. His thoughts were a jumble of angry bees rushing around his skull, taking away all his positive energy and turning him inside out. He couldn’t help but feel the pain burning in the back of his skull, or the way his throat clenched up, holding back from begging, pleading James to take back what he said. He wanted to hold onto their night before for as long as he could… but apparently James had other ideas.

James shuddered. A broken sob left him and he turned, his back to Steve before he could speak again. “I broke my vow, Steve! I took a vow of chastity when I became a reverend. I’m preparing to become a priest, and I had sex! I took away  _ everything _ I worked so hard for all these years, because I couldn’t control my own body!” Cupping his hand over his face, he slumped, looking weighed down by the pressure of the world’s expectations. “I let everyone down. I let my church down. I let you down! I committed such a horrible sin, and I can’t take it back. That’s why I’m mad at myself, Steve. I had every opportunity to not give into my own temptation and I failed…”

Steve listened to him, and his heart broke right in two. Seeing James looking so broken, so weighted down by the pressure of what was expected of him… that hurt worse than the rejection. He didn’t want to see James look so broken. James didn’t deserve that kind of pain in his life… not after everything he’d been through. “Bucky, look at me,” Steve said. He reached out, one last time, and his shoulders slumped in relief when James allowed him to touch his arm. “Look at me please?”

For a long moment, James didn’t move. He kept his eyes locked dead ahead, and Steve took the opportunity to slowly wrap his arm around his shoulders. That seemed to do the trick, and James slumped, leaning into Steve’s chest for comfort. “Aw Buck… easy, easy.” he murmured, wrapping him up in a hug. He couldn’t help but feel relieved when James returned the hug readily, the two of them locked in a warm embrace in the middle of the kitchen. A small part of him hoped that this was the extent of their confrontation. As much as he could understand why James was feeling so conflicted, he didn’t want to think about letting him go just yet. “James… listen to me. You haven’t let anyone down. You certainly haven’t let me down, do you understand? Why do you think you did such a thing?”

James didn’t answer him right away. Instead, he tightened his arm around Steve’s waist, keeping his cheek pressed to his shoulder. It was a complete change from his earlier hesitance to be touched at all, and the rapid back-and forth Steve was experiencing from James’ fluctuating emotions was making his head spin. “It’s just the way it is. You don’t get it, Steve… according to the entirety of my life’s work, I’ve stooped to the absolute lowest level imaginable… punishable by damnation in hell! Steve, I’m not even fit enough to continue working for my ordination at this point!”

Steve listened to him. The more James spoke, the more confused he became so he shook his head. “No you’re right, I don’t get it. So you had sex… what, does that supposedly mean you’re not a good person anymore? That you can’t be a good person? Why in the hell would you think God would condemn you for having sex, when it’s such a natural, normal thing to do?”

James hesitated, his cheek still pressed to his shoulder. After a long moment, he finally tore his gaze from the wall and met Steve’s. His eyes were red around the edges, though his tears didn’t fall that time. He looked more resigned than broken, and Steve couldn’t tell which part was worse. “It’s.. I… in order to begin the process to become a priest, I had to take a vow of celibacy. As a priest, your body is meant only for God and cannot be tainted by earthly pleasure. I broke that vow. I basically took my whole life’s work, my devotion to God, and slapped him in the face by breaking it. It’s a sin to break your vows, no matter the circumstances, and… and I  _ chose  _ to do it. You didn’t make me. No one made me. I chose it… That’s why it’s so bad, Steve. It wasn’t a mistake that I could hope to brush off or ask forgiveness for. I chose… to stand there and completely denounce what I swore to never commit until the day I die. That’s why, Steve… do you get it now?”

Steve listened to his explanation. His own heart crumbled at his words, seeing the desperation, and the pain in James. Shit… he truly believed he had done something so heinous, by allowing himself to feel pleasure the way a human body was  _ meant _ to feel? The way his supposed God had designed human bodies to feel? Steve was bowled over. He’d never seen someone look so destroyed in his life… the way James’ spirit visibly withered, a rose petal under scorching sun. It was horrifying. The one, singular night that James had blossomed and shone brighter than a star, had been completely snuffed out by Roman Catholic guilt, an age-old belief so outdated it had taken the bright spirit of a man and crushed it like a fucking spun glass sculpture underfoot.

No. James hadn’t done anything to deserve this kind of pain, but the misogyny of hundreds and hundreds of years’ precedence? That was unforgivable in Steve’s eyes. Fighting back the urge to be angry at the whole world, Steve reached up, cupping James’ face in his palms. He tilted his head up, blue eyes boring into blue, and he spoke, slow and calm. “Bucky… you listen to me. You did nothing wrong. That vow? It’s words on paper for a fucking  _ job _ . You having sex doesn’t define your damn spirit as a bad man. You’re a good man. You’re a loving man. You don’t need some old dudes in robes running around telling you how you're supposed to live your life!” 

Steve paused, grimacing as he thought of the implications James had clearly grown up with. How long had he been trained to think this way? Steve didn’t want to know how many years James had had this horrible, negative thought drilled into his skull by a community that bastardized normal, natural and healthy human urges because some book told them to. Just thinking about it, infuriated him even more, and he shook his head, forcing himself to stare deep into James’ soul just to ground himself again.

But when he looked into his eyes, Steve wasn’t met with recognition or acceptance. To his own dismay, he was met with a look of horror from James. This time, when James wrenched himself from Steve’s touch, Steve found himself actually stumbling, so suddenly taken aback by the Deacon’s mortification. He didn’t know what he’d expected out of James after his speech, but it had certainly wasn’t this.

“How can you  _ say _ that?!” James exclaimed. “Old dudes in robes? They don’t dictate my life, Steve, none of them have! I chose this life, and I spat in its face!” James uttered a broken sound, pushing his fingers into his hair and tugging on the strands hard enough, Steve could even feel the pull. He was wrecked emotionally, he could see, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help him. “I can’t keep going with this. I can’t make the same mistake again.” 

Steve listened, feeling his stomach clench with anxiety. He didn’t like this. This wasn’t how a morning after was supposed to go at all. Seeing James struggling so visibly with his choice, when it should have been so easy was breaking his heart, not because of what it meant for himself, but what it meant for James’ happiness. And now, Steve could see clearly how it was destroying him from the inside out. “Bucky,  _ please _ \- what are you saying babe?”

“No, Steve. Don’t call me that,” James said. He turned away with finality this time, wrapping his only arm around himself as he shuddered visibly. “I-I can’t… I can’t keep talking about this. It’s just going to go in circles, and neither of us are going to come to a conclusion. It’s…” James sighed, his head hanging. “I can’t keep doing this to you.  _ With _ you. I made a mistake, and I dragged you down with me. I can’t keep… keep seeing you. I have to go back to my vocation, and clearly my vocation is not what’s best for you. For you, sex is something that’s normal. For me…” James paused, meeting Steve’s stricken gaze with his own. “I have to let you go. It’s what’s best for both of us, if we want to continue living our lives. You have your wishes, and your desires, and I have dedicated my life to something that can’t tolerate what we did. It’s only going to hurt both of us in the end if we keep doing this…”

Steve listened, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He knew this was where the conversation was headed this whole time, but it still didn’t take away the hurt he felt. Like a house of cards, his spirit collapsed inside him, rendering him hollow, gutted raw. James had rejected him for his career. He understood why… but it still didn’t change the fact that he felt distraught that he’d been ripped away from the one person that had so drastically changed his outlook on life, all because their worlds were so vastly different. Briefly, Steve wondered what it would have been like if he’d met James before he had taken up this path in his life. He wondered how differently this all would have gone… would they still be floating on the glow of their happiness, relishing the other body and soul just like Steve felt they were meant to? Most likely… It was just a shame how easily the natural course of their two lives had pushed them apart, two ships that met briefly in the night, only to pass on their own currents, drifting apart for good.

Defeated, Steve turned away from James. He didn’t want to look at him; he didn’t want to run the risk of trying to force James to do anything, because his heart was broken. If he had insisted he wanted nothing more to do with Steve to pursue his career, then Steve wouldn’t get in his way, even if it broke his heart to do so.

Without another word, Steve left the kitchen. He didn’t look back at James, as much as he wanted to simply because if he did, he knew he’d change his mind and try to force James to take back what he said. Like hell, would Steve be another person guiding the hand of the Deacon’s decisions for him. He deserved more than that in his life. He deserved to have the dignity of his choice, and not have to worry about someone influencing at least one aspect of his life against his wishes. If Steve couldn’t give James his heart unbidden, then he could at least give him that.

Steve had never really faced the reality of lost love and what that pain could do to a man’s heart. Now, he understood why so many souls had withered throughout history in the face of such a terrible burden, and he left into the cold world around him, intent on giving his Bucky the last gift of affection he could in his sacrifice.

* * *

 

It took Steve approximately one hour to realize he was totally fucked.

He didn’t know why it occurred to him; his mind was completely elsewhere when the thought struck him like a bell, rattling his very core with anxiety. But it rang right out of the blue, reminding him that his troubles were far from over when it came to the care and safety of James Barnes.

Steve hadn’t gone straight home after he left James’ house. Too wound up from their confrontation he’d diverted left for the long walk home in the cold, trying his damn best to clear his mind. That attempt had failed tremendously, and by the time Steve found himself outside his apartment door again, he felt more conflicted than he ever had in his entire life. 

So naturally, Steve decided to do what all heartbroken people did. He cracked open a beer at ten in the morning, chugged it down and collapsed into bed, ready to sleep his grief away. He had clients that night, but he honestly didn’t know if his heart was into having sex with anyone after the blow he’d taken that day. Still, it was pay, and he needed the money after taking almost a week off. Bills to cover, groceries to buy, Strucker to pay back…

Steve bolted upright in bed, remembering exactly what the fuck kind of bind he’d gotten himself into. Strucker was still looking for his money, and he only had twenty four hours to come up with the rest of it, or else James was going to suffer the consequences for him.

With that realization, he leaped from the bed and ran directly to his closet. He ripped the door open, wincing as he heard the hinges groan in protest against their harsh treatment, and fished the box where he kept his work money out. As his anxiety for the situation grew, he counted the bills in rapid succession, hanging on a hope that he wasn’t too far from his goal amount.

That hope dwindled almost instantly. Cursing under his breath, Steve stared down at the measly eight-hundred dollars he had earned before he’d fallen sick, his mind racing with possibilities. How in the hell was he supposed to come up with over four-thousand dollars in one night? He couldn’t rely on finding himself the perfect client that night. And even if he called up all of his usuals, he only charged them three-hundred dollars a pop for a night of fun. 

Knowing he had well and truly fucked up James’ chances of safety, Steve leaned back on his heels, pushing his hands into his hair in frustration. He might have managed to pull this off if he hadn’t had a fucking panic attack over nothing and spent all his time getting tested for a disease he didn’t have. He might have pulled this off if he hadn’t gotten himself sick and spent three days in bed. None of this would be happening if he’d just stayed the course, and did what the fuck he was supposed to do.

But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the fact that the ax was about to fall and he was going to watch the man he cared for suffer the consequences. He knew Strucker was an asshole, and a shifty son-of-a-bitch that skirted the law, but he had no idea if the guy meant it when he threatened to  _ kill  _ him. He was in a bind, in the worst possible way, and he couldn’t help but hate himself for this whole fucking day.

As he sat on the floor, trying to think of a quick fix to keep James safe, a thought occurred to him. It was a shitty idea, but with the ticking clock of his deadline ringing louder and louder in his ear, Steve knew he had no choice. He had to take the money back he’d originally stolen from Strucker.

He had to go see Peggy Carter.

The guilt of what he had to do weighed him down, making his already shitty mood that much worse. The last thing he wanted to do was take the money away from someone that truly deserved it, but he had no choice: it was either take it back and put Peggy in a financial bind, or run the very real risk of reading a poor Reverend’s obituary in the paper. In Steve’s world, that was not an option. Even though James had rejected him and broken his heart, there was no way he would allow any harm to come to James.

With a heavy heart, Steve got up from the floor where he was kneeling and grabbed for his jacket. He didn’t even bat an eye as he went to the bathroom to make himself presentable, doing what he could to hide the marks James had left on his throat the night before. Once he was certain he looked well enough to be seen in public, Steve left the apartment to make the drive across town and face the music of his very difficult decision.

Peggy Carter wasn’t what you would call the average woman. That was part of why Steve liked her so much. Strong willed and the brightest person Steve had ever known, Peggy Carter had made a name of herself in New York; whether she could be found assisting in the local homeless shelters and soup kitchens, or going school to school helping the less fortunate kids with homework, Peggy was a jack of all trades when it came to being a notable figure in the community. Just the mere mention of her name and half the city lit up and exclaimed “ _ We love Peggy! What a wonderful woman!”  _

That wasn’t a difficult feat to manage when she’d been a literal angel to the less fortunate for over 40 years.

Steve apparently had a type: caring, selfless, serving, and patient. He loved people that could look at a shit situation and do their damn best to make it better, no matter what kind of strain it put on them. It was just the type of personality that meshed with his own, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he looked for those specific qualities in friends. Ten years prior, Steve had met Peggy when he’d volunteered his time at a shelter one Saturday, simply because he had nothing better to do, and wanted to spend his day doing something worthwhile. Back then, he’d been paired to work with  _ the _ Margaret Carter. Even then, her legacy had been strong, and he’d found himself bashfully complimenting all of the work she’d done in her life and praising her as one of his better influences. Sure, he’d left out the very important detail that’d he’d just recently started sex work as a career, because frankly he didn’t know if she would take kindly to that, but the rest of his life’s story he’d spilled to the older woman. She was like a mother figure he could vent his frustrations to, absorbing her advice and positive energy whenever she gave it to him in order to make himself a better man.

So naturally Steve and Peggy became very close friends, two people paired like a fine wine with the perfect chocolate. They were, platonic puzzle pieces that made the strongest friendship Steve had ever had in his life. Did it matter that his best friend was almost thirty years older? Not in the slightest. There was no age limit when two people who were cut from the same mold came together in solidarity and friendship.

And then Peggy got sick. 

Five years ago, Peggy had been diagnosed with early stage Parkinson’s disease, and the countdown on her prime years began. At first, the symptoms had been nonexistent. Steve could barely tell she’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness at all. But as the years passed, her mobility slowly dwindled, and her memory began to flicker. She was still, for the most part, independent and could take care of herself. Her memory was still sharp enough that she didn’t need a full time caretaker, but the change was slowly becoming more apparent. 

Naturally, Steve took it upon himself to make sure her groceries were stocked, her prescriptions were filled, and her doctor’s appointments were taken care of. It was a burden sometimes, especially if he hadn’t slept for two days due to his own work, but for the love of his best friend, Steve would move mountains and make sure she was taken care of.

Of course, that’s when things started going to shit. A year ago, Peggy had gotten word from the housing department that her back taxes were way overdue and if she didn’t pay up, she’d be evicted from her home. Volunteer work didn’t cover bills, and with her meager pension, Peggy had been put in a bind. She couldn’t afford assisted home living, and she had no relatives that lived in the states. When Steve had gotten word that the community she’d so selflessly cared for for most of her life, had simply given up on her, Steve had taken it upon himself to make sure that didn’t happen. If he had to pay for her back taxes himself, he fucking would. It wasn’t fair that the city of New York had simply disregarded the old woman’s financial situation and health, and held out their hands for ‘more more more’ when she couldn’t give it. 

That’s how Steve found himself in this situation. For almost a year, Steve had been stockpiling any extra cash he could to make sure her pills were refilled and her housing bills were covered, little by little. When he’d stolen that five grand from Strucker, Steve had had no doubt on where that money would go. 

But then James came into the picture and threw his perfectly crafted plan into chaos.

It was the worst kind of situation Steve could have gotten himself into. The two most important people in his life were both in trouble thanks to this asshole, but he couldn't help both of them. He had to choose who would be the lucky person to receive their lucky break- Peggy, with her monetary struggles, or James with his life literally in Steve’s hands.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Steve looked up from his steering wheel to the apartment building on his left. The entire building was old and quaint, the perfect home for an elderly woman and her neighbors. If he hadn’t been in such a shitty situation, Steve might have taken the opportunity to admire the face of the building and the 1940’s moulding across its stone front. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. 

Grimacing openly, Steve got out of his car and jogged up the steps. Without missing a beat, he plucked one of the chrysanthemums valiantly growing in Peggy’s window box despite the cold of the air, and allowed himself inside her apartment. There was no need for knocking; she’d put the kibosh on that rule long ago. The moment Steve crossed the threshold into her apartment, he slapped on the biggest smile he could muster, stifling back the wall of sadness as guilt ravaged his very soul for what he was about to do.

“Hello! Peg, it’s Steve!” he called, holding the chrysanthemum behind his back as he scoured the interior. Just like Peggy, her home was small and quietly unassuming. She still had most of her furniture from when she was a young woman (“no need to update when it works perfectly fine, Steve.”) and the dark, earthy tones of antique furniture and velvet curtains gave her apartments a comforting, motherly feel. He really did like her home; it just screamed Peggy Carter in the best of ways, and his forced smile morphed into one that was a little more genuine “Anyone home?”

“Steve?” Peggy’s voice lofted through the rooms. He looked up to see her standing on her steps, wearing her best house dress and robe. Her grey hair was styled just right, hanging to her shoulders, and her wrinkled face lit up at the sight of Steve. “Steve! My, my, it has been awhile since you’ve visited,” She said. Taking her time, she gingerly descended the staircase before approaching him and wrapping him up in a bear hug that was surprisingly strong for her frail figure.

Steve smiled and hugged her back before leaning away. He held up the flower he’d plucked from her flower box, watching as her expression turned highly amused. “A flower, to make up for being gone for so long.”

“Oh that’s just lovely,” she said. Taking the flower from him, she sniffed it before jabbing one, knobby finger into his shoulder, her expression sly. “I wonder if it will look good in my flower box up front.”

“Nothing a little glue won’t fix,” Steve said, shrugging innocently before he smiled. 

“Well, I’ll just get right on that and put it where it belongs with its brothers and sisters,” Peggy laughed. “Now what brings you to my neck of the woods on a Friday morning, my dear? And unannounced too? I shouldn’t have to give you another lesson in manners, you know.”

“I never did learn,” Steve replied, flashing her a grin that was a little too stiff. The momentary comfort of greeting his long-time friend had faded, leaving him feeling a little hollow as the imminent doom of his request loomed closer. “A man can’t just come calling on his best gal whenever he wants?”

“You’re lucky I was dressed, you goose,” Peggy giggled, before motioning to the kitchen. “Well, now that you’re here, take me to the kitchen? I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks, Peg,” Steve said. He extended his elbow to her and guided her down the hallway to the little white kitchen at the back of the apartment. He could feel in her stance that she wasn’t as stable on her feet as she used to be, and his smile fell. “Did you have your appointment with the doctor this month?”

“I did, I did,” Peggy said, her voice light. “He said the disease is progressing at a normal rate, which means I’ve got a few more years on my feet still. But the wall has become my closest companion and the stairs, an infrequent burden.” She looked up at her friend as she was parked in front of the stove, and she gave him a pointed look. “Now don’t you go worrying about me, I’ll be fine. What you can do, however, is tell me why you’re actually here, and you will do me the courtesy of not fibbing to me.”

_ Goddammit _ . Steve stared at her for a second before his face flushed red. How the hell did she do it? No matter what he did or said, she could always see straight through the veil. “How do you know something’s bothering me?” he asked, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. He busied himself with getting out her favorite tea blend from the cupboard and filling the kettle with water from the sink before he found the courage to look up at her again. Her expression hadn’t faltered once, and he found himself pitted in a battle of wills against her iron gaze. 

He tried his best to hold his own against that look… but the motherly hold and her chocolate eyes that held no room for argument broke him down in an instant and his will collapsed. He huffed a sigh, leaning back against the counter as he crossed his arms petulantly. “Damn, you really know how to work a guy over don’t you?”

“Not in the slightest. You never were a very good liar,” Peggy said. Her tone softened and she reached out, patting her withered hand on his broad shoulder. “It’s part of what makes you so likeable. You just can’t lie to a person. It’s not something to be ashamed of. However, whatever is troubling you, it would be best if you simply told me instead of hiding it from me. Perhaps I can help ease your mind.”

Steve sighed. He knew she was right, there was no purpose in him lying about why he was there. He just had to come out and tell her the truth. The last thing he needed was to lose her trust now on top of everything else. “Alright… it’s- Jesus, Peg, you’re gonna think I’m an asshole,” he mumbled, pushing his hand through his hair and messing up the blond strands. 

“No, I will not. I know you, Steve,” Peggy said. She squeezed his shoulder a little more tightly before she spoke again. “Just… in your own time.”

Steve nodded. Looking down at the floor in front of him, he shuffled his boots on the tiles before inhaling sharply. “Do you remember that… that money I gave you a few weeks ago? The uhm.. The five grand?”

“Yes, I do,” Peggy said, nodding once. “I distinctly remembering demanding to know where you got such a large sum of money. You said it was from work. What about it?”

Steve bit his lip, looking up at her finally. He knew he looked like a dog at that point, the way her features fell at the sight of his sadness. “That… it’s... I need to take it back.” he finally finished, rushing on his words.

Peggy didn’t move for a second, her hand still an anchor on his shoulder. After a moment, she released him, picking up the kettle from where he’d set it on the counter and placed it on the stove to boil. “I see. And is there a particular reason why?”

“Yeah, actually,” Steve said. He paced the kitchen for a moment, listening as the old woman worked diligently over her tea kettle before he broke the silence. “I didn’t earn that money. I stole it. And if I don’t return it to its owner, someone really important to me is going to get hurt. Like… really hurt, and it’ll be my fault.” He couldn’t help it. Steve barked a derisive laugh, hating himself more and more that this whole situation had come down to this: begging an old woman for money she needed because he had been an idiot. Steve hated himself more than he’d ever hated himself in his life. “ _ Christ _ , Peg, I’m such a fuck-up…”

“No you are not,” Peggy said, matter-of-factly. Her tone was so confident, Steve couldn’t help but look up at her to see her giving him a stern look. “Now you listen to me, Steve Rogers. You are not a failure. Am I proud of you for stealing money from someone? No, I am not. But the fact that someone has threatened physical harm to another person unless you adhere to their ultimatum, that boils my blood even more. No one’s life should be considered collateral for something as useless as money.”

As she spoke, Peggy turned away and marched proudly over to her refrigerator. With only a minor struggle, she managed to pluck a small box from the top, taking it down and giving it a fond look. “I knew I had been saving it for a rainy day. This certainly constitutes as one, don’t you think?” Without a word, she gave the box to Steve and swept her hands at him, bidding him to open it.

He took the box from her, stunned silent by her words. With a tremble in his fingers, Steve opened the little chest, only to be met with the sight of all the money he’d given her, still rolled up just as he remembered it. A wall of emotion overtook him and he met her gaze in awe. This woman was an angel trapped in a frail human body and bound to this hell-hole of a planet. How selflessly she’d given up what could have been a very comfortable cushion of money, simply because Steve had admitted to a fault. She didn’t even  _ know _ James, and she was more concerned for his safety than her own monetary gain. “Peg, I don’t know what to say…” he said, his voice low. He could hear the crack in it, and he fought back an embarrassed laugh. 

“Don’t say anything. Just deliver that money back to whoever wants it and you make damn sure that this individual who has been threatened is kept safe. Money is not important.” Peggy said. She stood proudly by her stove, the tea kettle she’d set to boil whistling behind her. For a split second, Steve didn’t see someone who lived on way too many medications contending with a greedy government. No, all he saw was the young, vibrant woman that she truly was in her heart; the proud, strong, confident heroine that didn’t take no for an answer and spat in the face of infamy. 

For a second, Steve was bowled over by her strength. His fingers trembled on the box before an iota of relief overtook him. His problems weren’t over, that was for sure. He still had the very real issue of his own broken heart to contend with, and knowing he’d never get to see James again. But at the very least, he knew the Reverend would be safe now. Worst case scenario, he’d slowly earn back the money he would return to Strucker, and Peggy would continue on just as she had before. James was safe from harm now. That was more than he could ask for. “Thank you, Peg. Seriously, you have no idea what this means to me”.. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, hugging the old woman tightly to his chest.

Peggy chuckled, patting her wizened hands on his back before looking up at him. “Now, don’t you start getting emotional on me. It’s just money, my dear. Now, be a good man, and set the table. You’re having tea with me, and you will not argue one bit. We’re overdue for a visit as it is, and now that the important matters are taken care of, it’s time to unwind a bit and enjoy ourselves.”

Steve chuckled. “Alright, if you insist,” he said. Stepping away, he did as he was told, carefully setting the box of money off to the side to be delivered promptly. As he set the table, he watched Peggy prepare a pot of tea for the two of them before grabbing her favorite biscuits from the cupboard, and set out the spread on the kitchen table. He fetched her prized tea cups, saucers, and spoons, and with their supplies in hand, they sat down together for an afternoon visit. As much as he wished to remain sorrowful about James’ rejection, he couldn’t help but feel a little better as Peggy chattered away to him about this and that, sipping her tea happily. 

He didn’t speak much; instead, he chose to listen to her, enjoying the sound of her laughter as she described her latest euchre game with the neighbors, and how she’d expertly trounced them all. He listened as she exhausted her conversations for well over an hour, the two of them falling silent as they polished off the tea together, and tidied up for the afternoon.

Steve thought he might have been in the clear as he bid her goodbye and headed for the door with the money in hand. However, just before he saw himself out, he heard Peggy approach him from behind, her fingers touching his hand. The touch was gentle, and he found himself hesitating, before looking down at her.

“Steve… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but… whoever these people are, please be safe.” Peggy said, her eyes soft. “It’s a dangerous game when you play with people who are so willing to throw away a life. I don’t want to hear that you’ve gotten hurt, or worse because of this person. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Peg, I understand. I’ll be fine. It’s more my… my friend I’m worried about,” Steve said quietly. Friend… strange choice in words. If he asked himself could he really, still consider James a friend after what they had been through? He wasn’t entirely sure, but the ache of loss was already apparent in his chest, chilling him more than the icy air outside.

“Your friend. Yes, of course,” Peggy said, shaking her head. “The poor dear.” They fell silent at that, standing quite awkwardly in the doorway. After a long moment, Peggy spoke again. “This friend of yours? Have I met them? Will I get a chance to, if not?”

Oh boy. Steve did not want to open that can of worms now. Feeling a pang of regret and pain, he reached up, touching the side of his neck where the phantom feel of James’ lips lingered, still as fresh as it had been the night before. He hid the gesture by scratching at his neck and he locked his gaze on the floor. “It’s… complicated. I think… I think I consider us as friends more than he does. This money? It’s kind of, I guess, a parting gift to him, because of my mistake. I honestly don’t think I’ll see him again after this.”

Peggy frowned, looking just as pained as Steve felt. “Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry. It’s a shame when friends separate. It always has been. But, you’re doing the right thing, protecting him. And if he doesn’t realize what kind of friend he’s lost, then that is his shame, not yours.” She reached up, cupping his cheeks in her palms before smiling at him. “You’re a good man, Steve. You always have been, and you love with every bit of your heart. Don’t let this disappointment undo everything you’ve worked for. Even if this person chooses not to appreciate you, then you can go on, knowing that you’ve done everything you can to care for him. That’s what’s most important. Do you understand me?”

Steve nodded. He closed his eyes, thinking back to James and the loss he still felt. He knew Peggy meant well, but… he just didn’t think he’d get over James’ rejection. At least, not anytime soon. He hated to admit it, but the ache of a broken heart was just as painful as the best romance novels had described it. If he pulled through this within a reasonable time, it would be a miracle. 

But he wouldn’t tell her that. No, for now, he’d work to move on as best as he could. He’d learn, eventually, to let that star go and move on with his life, even if it took him years. As long as James was eventually safe and happy, then that’s what Steve would hold onto. That’s all he  _ could _ hold onto..

* * *

 

Around him, the soft murmur of voices echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the church. There were only a few people inside the chapel at that moment, which James was more than grateful for. He didn’t want to have to talk to anyone if he could help it. Not so soon after his night of sin. He didn’t know if he might accidentally spill the truth to someone, or if they would just know… either way, he was too uncomfortable to speak to anyone at that moment so he appreciated the fact that he was, for the most part, alone.

Sitting in the very back pew of the church, James kept his eyes locked dead ahead, ignoring the chatter of the man and woman in the pew in front of him. In his hand, his fingers worked over the beads of an old rosary his mother had given him when he was a child, though it was more an absent minded gesture than actual prayer. Every so often, his eyes flickered to the confessional at his right, his patience for finally getting this over with growing thin, before he tore his gaze away to stare back at the visage of Jesus on the cross at the front of the chapel.

Shortly after Steve had left his apartment, James had suffered a complete break down. He hadn’t felt this much guilt in years, not since his parents’ and sister’s deaths so long ago. He’d leaned against the counter for support, trying desperately to catch his breath and keep himself from fainting on the spot. His thoughts had scrambled with the reality: He’d had sex, he was going to be a priest, he’d had sex with a man of all people, and worst of all, his body’s libido had been woken up at long last, and craved more of those feelings, as soon as possible.

Horrified by the whole ordeal, James had forced himself to stumble into the bathroom and take a long, scalding hot shower, hoping to physically scrub himself clean of his temptations and thoughts. He’d scrubbed and scrubbed, turning his skin bright red as he repeated a mantra of “you can’t do this!!” in his mind until he thought he was going to faint. When the water finally ran ice cold, dousing him in a chilled reminder of his predicament, James had clambered from the shower and dressed, before deciding he absolutely could not do this without absolution.

Without a second thought, James had donned his prosthetic arm and bolted out the door, making a bee-line for his church. Ignoring traffic around him and the frosty nip in the air, James jogged the three blocks as quickly as he could and pushed his way into the chapel without so much as a hello to the door greeter. 

Deciding that his best course of action would be to seek out confession from his peers, James had settled into the pew next to the confessional, and there he sat for nearly ten minutes, waiting for whomever was offering up their penance to hurry up. Of course, the ten minute break had actually done James a bit of good. As he sat inside the chapel, his fingers running over the beads of his rosary, more out of comfort than anything, he felt himself begin to relax finally. Sure, he still felt guilty for what happened the night before, but he didn’t feel quite as frantic for answers. 

James looked up at the confessional again, staring at it balefully as he waited impatiently to speak to his only mentor at this time. What on Earth could possibly be taking so long? Sighing once again, James slumped into the pew, staring at the wooden seat in front of him. As he did, he spotted a small bible in the pocket and he reached for it, opening it to a random passage simply because he had nothing better to do. His eyes skimmed the page for a moment, blindly taking in the words on the page before they began to make sense. Luke7:34… Jesus befriending sinners even in the face of judgement from the Pharisees. How fitting that he should find himself reading this random passage, when it matched so perfectly to his own predicament...

As he read  James felt a little better about his own crime, drawn in as his unconscious mind began to rationalize that maybe he was in good company with the Lord under such scrutiny. That is, until the doors of the confessional opened, bringing him back to the moment. The sound of wood creaking in the room echoed across the stone walls, making James jump visibly in his spot. Looking up from his reading, he saw the young priest standing there in his sacramental robes saying goodbye to the young woman that had just been speaking with him. James recognized the priest; Father David. He was one of the church’s newest ordained priests, a young man with black hair and crooked teeth but the friendliest smile James had ever seen.

“James? What a surprise to see you,” Father David said, gesturing to him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

James inhaled slowly. Well, this was it. “Actually… yes. I… I want to seek out penance,” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure if the priest could hear him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak louder than that. 

“Ah, understood. Well, come in. I’ll do my best to assist you, Reverend.” Father David gestured towards the confessional behind them before slipping into his own compartment. 

This left James alone out in the chapel. He stared at the open door for a second, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his gut. He hadn’t been to confession in months… honestly, he hadn’t felt like he needed to. He’d been happy, healthy, he hadn’t done anything wrong… then Steve came into his life and changed all of that. He’d committed a sin of the flesh, after he’d vowed never to do so, to God of all people. Again, that had been his mistake; he’d gotten too comfortable, thinking he could do no wrong. How arrogant he had been...

A cold shudder overtook him as he tentatively entered the confessional. Closing the door behind himself he dropped down to his knees, facing the screen that separated him from his only hope of absolution. He didn’t look up as he signed the cross, taking a long moment to muster up the courage to speak. He inhaled twice, his hand folded into his prosthetic, and he finally spoken. “Forgive me, Father… for I have sinned. It has been…” he hesitated, before sighing through his nose, “ _ months _ , since my last confession…”

Father David hummed quietly, the sound faintly amused. “I should think so yes. I would read you a passage from scripture regarding this length of absence, but you know God's word as well as I do. I try to avoid redundancy as much as possible, Reverend. Why don’t we skip ahead, and you tell me what it is that you’ve done, that makes you feel you need to ask for absolution.”

James nodded, licking his lower lip. He pictured the night before vividly in his mind’s eye, and a shudder overtook him. He remembered the details of his sex, the smell of Steve’s hair, their sweat… Blinking rapidly, James stifled a growl as he forced himself to focus. He was supposed to tell Father David what he’d done, not take a grand trip down memory lane like a heathen. But just as he opened his mouth to tell him the truth, that damn memory came back to him. The sound of Steve’s voice, urging him on, praising him like he’d never been praised before. His own thoughts as he blossomed underneath Steve. The sense of goodness, of rightness with him as he came apart in Steve’s arms. The comfort and love as he clinged to him, pressing kisses into his skin and how comfortable and happy he was with him.

Love… that terribly unfamiliar thing he hadn’t felt in years, but supposedly received from God every single day. He’d felt it last night as Steve held him in his arms. He’d felt it as he kissed him like the most precious stones on Earth. He’d felt so unbelievably right and craved his touch, his sex again, like a dying man craves water or food. Maybe Steve had been right… maybe he wasn’t wrong in wanting these human desires. Why would God create a human body to feel such things, if he wasn’t meant to experience them for himself? As he mulled over his sudden revelation James thought maybe… just maybe he’d been looking at this all wrong. 

Did he commit a sin, having sex when he'd vowed never to do such a thing,  _ of course _ . But then again, Jesus had befriended prostitutes, thieves and sinners. Scripture had been filled with passages of his actions.The very book of Luke he’d just been reading had reminded him of that. In all honestly, if His actions had been laid before the clergy for their face-value today, Christ himself had committed unspeakable transgressions, and he was the Son of God! If Jesus himself could sin and still maintain his Holy Order, then why couldn’t James do the same?

With that rationale, James made his ultimate decision. He didn’t have to admit his actions to a priest barely out of his own ordination process. All he had to do was confess  _ a _ sin… even if it meant lying just a little bit about it.

“I… I lied to someone.” James said, his voice cracking. “That… that lie ended up costing them dearly in the end. It was just a fib, I thought, but…”

Father David listened to him, humming slightly in his throat. “And what did you lie about, Reverend?”

James shivered. He churned up the memory as he spoke, remembering poor Aiden and Paul’s faces as he used them to keep his own secret safe. “I lied to a couple… told them that I was ordained and could offer one of them their last rights. I performed the ritual for them, just before the man died… I used the namesake of the priest for my own gain, and gave two people false hope. His Last Rites were not genuine…”

Father David didn’t speak for a second. “W-well.. That is, indeed, quite the confession.” he said, sounding uncomfortable. “And you thought you could do this, why?”

“Because I thought I was doing the right thing for them, at the time,” James said, barely above a whisper. “I am sorry. I truly am.”

Silence filled the confessional. After a moment, Father David cleared his throat. “I can see that you are indeed sorrowful for what has been committed. For what has been done, I believe spending next Friday in the church, assisting the cleaning staff with upkeep of the chapel should be wise. You wrongfully assumed a position of high power and used it to your own gain. I think returning you back down to Earth, where you belong as Reverend, shall be penance enough. Recite the Act of Contrition every night for one week to supplement your forgiveness. Are the terms of your penance clear to you, James?”

James listened, his throat tight with the moment. He found himself nodding dumbly to the screen in front of him before he realized that Father David couldn’t see him. “Y-yes. They’re clear,” he said after he’d finally gotten his voice back.

“Good. Then, James,  I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father and of Son and of the Holy Spirit. Go in peace, Reverend.”

James nodded, lifting his hand and shakily crossing himself before getting to his feet again. He could hear movement behind the screen and he hesitated for a moment, allowing Father David the chance to exit the confessional. As he heard the opposing door close, he exhaled a puff of air, feeling a vague sort of discomfort as he thought over his own, frantic rationale. He truly believed what he thought, comparing his sin to Jesus’. He hadn’t done wrong by sleeping with Steve. It was natural, and good and totally forgivable. 

He just had to hold onto that thought and convince himself it was just and true, no matter how much his beliefs told him otherwise.

Hours passed in a haze of foggy thoughts. He didn’t know how it was he finally found himself at home again after wandering the streets of Brooklyn, but as he closed the door behind himself, dropping his keys to the side table, James shook himself back to awareness as he took in his surroundings. He wanted to go to his room and hole up for the remainder of the evening, but that even seemed like a crime in and of itself. He’d slept with Steve there, before callously casting him out like a dog on the streets. It was no place for the likes of himself, a bastard that had put his own, erring thoughts before the wellbeing of another.  He didn’t know if he could, in good conscious, allow himself to seek peace within that room again, for a long time. 

James choked on a broken sound, his eyesight bleary as he grabbed his trusty bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. He didn’t even bother to cut it with water like usual. Instead, he chugged it down in three swallows, choking on a sharp gasp as the sting of alcohol took his breath away. It seemed however to do the trick, and James felt himself relaxing a little as the sting and the chest-deep burning grounded him just a bit.

Clutching the glass, he stared at the grainy wood of the cabinet in front of him. He waited, impatiently, for the rush of alcohol to soften his thoughts and fuzzy up the corners of his too-acute senses. He didn’t want to think about this day. He didn’t want to be reminded of who he left behind in order to return to a lifestyle he’d so painfully subjected himself to for almost two decades. 

A life time that had shaped him into the man he was this very day. A life time that he’d spent with righteous men and women, learning their teachings and forming the seeds of his future as a damn clergyman. 

Oh God… what was he thinking? He’d lied about having sex with a man, a sin written about in Leviticus. He’d bent himself and given up his sacred virginity, masking his deluded rationale with insanity. He hadn’t found an excuse for his actions… he had given into denial and his own, deeply rooted regrets for following this path to righteousness he'd never wanted.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he poured a second glass for himself before shoving the bottle back into its home and slamming the cabinet shut. The sound of glass rattling inside it was almost satisfactory, and he felt a manic sort of glee that he could take out his aggression on that Goddamn liquor cabinet if he so chose to.

To say he was confused was an understatement. James didn’t remember feeling this kind of emotional backlash in his entire life. Even when his family had died right in front of him, their deaths hadn’t affected him this strongly. He’d simply used their deaths as inspiration to follow the path his father had wanted for him. Until now, he’d just accepted it, thinking this was what he was meant to do with his life.

Now? Now he knew for a fact that he’d made a mistake, both in following his father’s wishes to his own downfall, and in ruining the very sanctity of the good work all other, Lord abiding men and women worked so hard for. His messy emotions weren’t just regret for lying to a priest. This was guilt clawing at his innards, making him hate himself for so easily casting aside everything he’d worked for in the memory of his parents’ wishes. This was anger, knowing he had to give up the one thing he’d wanted more than anything in his life because he had a duty to uphold. This was despair, knowing he had to break the heart of the only human being he wanted to share his intimate feelings with, because he was too cowardly to stand up for his own desires. 

But worst of all, this was defeat, knowing that he’d set himself on this path out of obligation, rather than heart-felt respect, and he was too far gone in his life to change that now. 

With that thought, James knew what the first step in cleansing himself would be. He had to remove Steve from his life totally. He’d already rejected his love and his body that morning, but it wasn’t enough. He had to cut all ties with him completely. That meant, removing his number from his phone so he wasn’t tempted to try and contact him again. With a determined look, James withdrew his phone from his pocket and opened up his text message history. At the top, sat Steve’s number, labeled “priority contact” in his phone, just another reminder of how deeply he’d gotten himself involved. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, James took the moment to calm himself back down before opening that text conversation. His thumb hovered over the “delete all” function as he briefly skimmed the most recent messages he’d received from Steve, trembling as he tried to will himself to actually go through with cutting Steve out of his life for good.

He hesitated. Just as he prepared to hit that final confirmation, James hesitated, swiping the screen to scroll up over their last conversation, just two weeks prior. Reading over the texts, James reacquainted himself with the light and cheer that was Steve’s presence, and a newfound sense of dismay washed over him.

**SR:** _Hey, hotshot, gonna be done here in just a few minutes then we’ll meet up. Hope you’re hungry for tacos, ‘cause I’ve got a hankering something fierce ;)_

 **SR:** _Everything go okay? You seemed a little down yesterday, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I hate seeing you look sad… :(_

 **SR:** _I’ll be over at your place in a little bit, and you better be ready with comfy blankets and stuff. Gotta get you reacquainted with some good old fashioned Disney favorites. I can’t believe you’ve never seen The Little Mermaid! That’s a travesty, Reverend, and you should feel so ashamed of yourself :P :P_

**SR:** _ I can’t wait to see you tonight, Bucky. I had a really rough day, and I really could do with seeing your smiling face again.  _

James stared at the messages before him, his eyes beginning to burn with tears. A newfound sense of longing overtook him, and he forced himself to look away from the phone. He knew he had to cut ties with Steve, but… he just couldn’t bring himself to severe this last connection with the best man he’d ever grown to love. It felt wrong, deleting him from his life like he’d never mattered. No… wrong, wasn’t the correct word. It felt like a  _ crime _ . He couldn’t just delete Steve from his life because there was no life  _ without him _ .

James knew, then and there, he was screwed. If he removed Steve from his life, he knew he’d never be able to go back to the blind ignorance of his past. He knew he’d never be able to go on, knowing he’d had something really special and he’d thrown it away for something that was simply just a job. Steve had been right… by removing him from his past and pretending he’d never existed, James was allowing his blind beliefs to win this war, and denying himself his only chance at happiness.

“ _ Dammit _ !” James cursed, collapsing back into the sofa. Conflict… he’d never dealt well with conflict in his life. He wanted, more than anything, to take back what he’d done to Steve, but that was impossible. The look on Steve’s face when he’d left that morning told James everything he needed to know: Steve wasn’t going to come back. He’d broken his heart, shattering it into a thousand pieces in that golden chest of his, irreparably. Steve would never forgive him if he came crawling back now. God, he felt sick. He’d chosen the church over Steve, and there was no way he could take it back now.

Broken. That’s how James felt. He was broken in the worst of ways, and he had only his selfishness to blame for it. He couldn’t have it both ways, so he’d chosen the easier option, the chance to go back and try to pretend he hadn’t changed his life forever. He was so stupid… stupid, and stuck on the path he didn’t even know he wanted to be walking on, without a care as to what it might do to another human being.

James slumped back into the sofa, his fingers a vice grip around the near empty glass in his hand. By now, the alcohol had begun taking hold, making his already aching head swirl with the beginnings of intoxication. Ruefully, he looked away from the spot on the floor he’d been staring at, his bleary, tear-filled eyes tracking across the far wall. His gaze landed on the sole placard hanging above the liquor cabinet, and he stared at it for a long, hate-fueled moment. In the frame, his graduation certificate from the Chicago Theological seminary stared back at him, mocking him from the other side of the room with its pomp and glory, a harsh reminder of the path he’d chosen over love. All at once, his sorrow was replaced with outright rage, and James growled, flinging the glass at it in a temper-fueled attempt at hitting the proverbial undo button of his life. 

A shattering sound echoed in the room as the glass connected with the frame. He watched in minute satisfaction as both glass and frame cracked apart at the impact, a cascade of fine pieces broke apart in an explosion that rained down on the wooden cabinet and the floor below. The frame swayed on its peg dangerously, before tumbling to the floor as well, cracking apart before the room fell deathly silent once again. He didn’t even get up as he stared at the shattered reminder of his life, lying just as broken as his spirit felt at that moment. He’d expected his outburst to make him feel better, but all he felt was hollow as he realized what he’d done.

The seminary wasn’t to blame for all of this. Steve wasn’t to blame for all of this. It was James, through and through. He should have been stronger in his youth. He should have stood up to his parents when he’d had the chance. He should have stood up for himself and resisted when the tides of influence had begun to drag him out to sea. But now it was too late. He was drowning in his choices, and there was no way he was going to be able to swim back and live the life he’d truly wanted.

“Hope you’re happy, dad…” he said quietly to himself, exhausted of his anger and wrung dry of his emotions. Without another passing look at the broken glass, James turned over, tucking himself into the tightest ball he could manage. He couldn’t look at his world anymore. He couldn’t look at this empty, soulless house around him and what it all entailed. He couldn’t even look at his phone and the happy reminders of who he’d given up. He was empty, and he deserved nothing less than the emptiness around him. 

Tomorrow, he’d go back to pretending this all didn’t hurt him. He’d go back to the church and his work, his boring days of classes preparing for a life he truly didn’t want. He’d go back to his jogs and his therapy sessions with Sam because he had nothing else to look forward to. For the first time, he hated what his divine path had meant for him. He hated it, as much as he hated himself for pushing away the only love he’d ever truly felt in his life. Hate… it was a cruel brand, and a spiteful demon that ate away at a man’s soul, and for the first time in James life…

God… himself… he didn’t know which one he hated more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me, otherwise I can't update this story for you. Mercy!


	7. On Bended Knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James realizes the faults in his fears, and seeks out Steve to forgive him for his transgressions. But will Steve forgive him and take the Deacon back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG the latest installment for Acts is heeerrree!!! After last chapter's depression, I hope you enjoy! Read on, read on!
> 
> Note: Warning for some slurs and the use of "f*ggot" in the beginning of the chapter. Just as a heads up, they come from Strucker, so its definitely to be expected. Just thought I'd warn you ahead of time, in case that's a trigger!

Steve paced the alleyway for a second, listening to the wet ‘slap!’ of his boots striking the pavement as he trudged through a puddle. The rain had stopped an hour ago, but that didn’t take away the chill he felt in the air, seeping in through the thin material of the brown running jacket he’d inadvertently stolen from James and wore like a coat of armor. Steve wanted to feel bad for holding onto the jacket, but he couldn’t find it in himself to worry too much. James had never asked for it back, and there was no way in hell Steve was going to force the poor guy to face him once again. He, himself, didn’t feel ready to face the reality that their brief romance had crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.

Now that was a fitting analogy for their failed relationship if Steve ever thought of one: short flight, incredible experience, ending in gut-wrenching, tear-jerking failure. Even still, as Steve reminisced over the shortest relationship he’d ever had in his life, he couldn’t deny it had been the best one. It was just a shame he shared it with someone that essentially had to pretend he never existed, if he wanted to keep his affair a secret.

Steve sighed. Stopping his near-frantic pacing he found himself slumped back against the wall of the building, using the bricks for support. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to clear away the negative thoughts that captivated his mind like a horde of angry bees. No… he couldn’t think like that. James hadn’t used him for a quick fuck. This hadn’t been an affair, or done out of any negative discourse. This had simply been two men falling for each other at the wrong time in their lives, played out in the most twisted, modern adaptation of Romeo and Juliet Steve had ever heard of. Fuck the Montagues and Capulets. Fuck their petty little feuds and fuck the scholars that said Shakespeare’s particular story of star-crossed lovers was the most poignant in all of history. Wait a few hundred years and then look back at the sinking ship that had been Steve Rogers and James Barnes’ romance to see the direct path of pain they had both been on from the start. That tale would always be enough to draw tears out of the masses, no matter how terribly anyone tried to skew it.

In defeat, Steve let his hands fall, knocking his knuckles into the rough bricks at his back. There was no reason to point fingers and claim injustice for what had happened. James wasn’t at fault for choosing the path he had after sleeping with Steve. He, himself, wasn’t at fault for allowing himself to fall in love with someone literally out of his league. Shit happened, hearts got broken. The march of Life pressed on, and there was nothing more that Steve could do but move forward and do his short-term love interest one last solid and save his fucking life.

With a tired sigh, Steve glanced down at the coat pulled around his waist. In the side pocket, he could see the fat roll of dollars he’d brought to return to its rightful owner, sticking out just the slightest bit for the world to see. Reaching down, he stuffed his hand into the pocket, covering the roll from any prying eyes, and jealously protecting it from anyone who might get any funny ideas if they spotted it. He had a right to be a little nervous, he reasoned with himself. The life of the guy that had dumped him was still on the chopping block at that exact moment, and if Strucker showed up at this meeting and was not 1000% satisfied with the transaction, Steve could only guess the many, creative ways he could take that anger out on the Deacon. He had to absolutely make sure this went according to plan, if he wanted any sort of peace of mind for James’ sake.

Squeezing the roll tightly, Steve felt the crinkled, faded dollars rubbing against his palm, calming his nerves just the slightest bit. He looked down again, only to find the collar of the running coat brushing against his cheek. Steve froze for a second, the faintest whiff of James’ cologne wafting up with the breeze that kicked up tiny pieces of trash like snowflakes dancing across wet pavement. He didn’t think after this long, his unique scent would still linger on the cloth like that, but… well, he couldn’t help himself. Uttering a pained sound he reached up, cupping the soft fuzzy cloth of the coat collar and taking one, soft sniff to imprint on that scent for long nights ahead. Fuck… it had only been one Goddamn day since James had ousted him from his life, but it felt like an eternity of heartache had passed already. Even still... holding onto this coat, that scent, the memory of how good it had been between them? It made it all just a little bit better for Steve, and the faintest ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“Well, what do you know? Golden boy’s early, as usual. Johnny on the fuckin’ spot, that’s how I like my delivery schmucks.”

The moment was cracked like china at that interruption, and Steve turned, startled by the sound of Jack Rollins calling him out. At the end of the alley, Rollins and Strucker stood together, watching the blond with matching smiles of grotesque amusement on their lips. Good feelings gone in an instant, Steve straightened up, facing them both with squared shoulders and a tick in his jaw as his anger at their ugly game reared its head once again. “Rollins… Strucker. Surprised to see you two out in the daylight again. Thought you might have burst into flames at sun up, but imagine my disappointment.”

“Oh he’s funny ain’t he,” Strucker said. Chewing through a toothpick wedged between his teeth, the man approached Steve, almost chest to chest with him as he leveled the other with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Maybe when he runs out of fuckin’ to do he could be a comic. What d’ya think Rollins?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. If he lives that long,” Rollins quipped, laughing as he stood behind Strucker.

Steve grimaced, trying his best not to breathe in too deeply. Strucker reeked of cigarettes and cheap beer again, which didn’t surprise him that early in the morning. Turning his head away so he didn’t have to smell that nauseating combination any longer, Steve took a step back and held his hands out to the sides. “Cut the talk, jackass, I just came here to deliver your fuckin’ money. Now, you want it or not? ‘Cause I got shit to do.”

Strucker listened to him, his cock-sure smile never breaking. After a moment’s contemplation, he huffed the faintest of laughs before holding his hand out. “You caught me in a good mood, sport. Hand it over, let’s see if you learned yer lesson this time.”

Steve nodded. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the money, slapping it into his palm before taking another step away from him. It felt like a load had been lifted from his shoulders as he confidently watched the two men unroll the bills and begin counting them between them. Minutes ticked by as bill after bill was accounted for before at long last, the final twenty had been tallied. He held his breath, watching as Rollins pocketed the cash and Strucker turned to face him once more.

“Not bad, kid. Gotta admit, I’m shocked ya managed to get all of this in two weeks. Musta worked yer ass off,” Strucker said, giving him a malicious grin. “How many happy endings did ya have to give to rack up this kinda dough that fast? Half of Brooklyn? I betcha yer gonna have quite the number of repeat calls in the next couple weeks all thanks to yer ‘heroic gesture’.”

“Fuck off, Strucker. That ain’t your business,” Steve snapped. “All that matters is you got your fuckin’ money back. Are we good now?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” Strucker said, waving his hand dismissively before turning on his heel. He didn’t get very far, before Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. Strucker turned back, raising a challenging brow at Steve, but shockingly kept his mouth shut.

“I didn’t mean between us two. I meant about James,” Steve said. His voice was level, though inside he couldn’t help the shudders of anticipation as he waited for the confirmation he so desperately needed to hear. “Tell me he’s safe now.”

“Kid, you better get yer punk ass hand offa my shoulder, before ya lose it,” Strucker said, his voice dangerously low. He waited until Steve slowly removed his hand before turning back, his arms crossed and fury dancing like embers in his gaze. “Right… the little faggot priest ya got chummy with. Why do you care so much about him? He’s a motherfuckin’ clergyman, kid. They ain’t got time for people like you, so why the hell do you give two shits about someone that cares more about some imaginary god in the sky, than a human being?”

Steve listened, hiding the cringe that wanted to overtake him. The words were hot bile and vitriol, washing over him and reminding him that indeed that’s exactly what James had done. He’d chosen what amounted to a cult ideology followed world-round over Steve, and he was still gutted by the outcome. But that didn’t change how he felt about James or what it would do to him if he found out something had happened to the Deacon. Besides, he didn’t need Strucker to know that James had dumped him. The last thing Steve needed on this planet was to give this bastard more ammunition to use against him in this emotional warfare.

So he chose to hide it; with a sneer on his features, he squared his shoulders, looking him right in the eye and spoke with all the confidence in the world. “That’s ain’t fuck-all your business, Strucker. He didn’t do shit do you. I did. You got back what I stole, and I’m the one that suffered for it. James had no idea any of this was going on, so it didn’t affect him at all. It’s over. You won. So I’ll ask again… _is he safe_?”

Strucker didn’t answer him. He remained silent for a long while, casting a glance back at Rollins. The two crooks shared a quiet conversation, one that transcended even Steve’s keen attention, before Strucker turned back to Steve and held his hands out to take a shallow bow. “The deal’s been met. For this fuck-up, I ain’t layin’ a hand on him. Happy?”

Steve relaxed almost instantly. He didn’t know quite how far he could trust him, but at least he’d gotten his word. That’s the best he could hope to get out of an asshole like him. “Good. Now are we done here? I got someplace I need to be.”

“Sure, sure... you got it, kid,” Strucker said. He tossed the money roll to Rollins before sauntering up to Steve. Getting uncomfortably close to him, Strucker leaned in even further, almost nose to nose with Steve as he lashed out, spitting directly in his face before he spoke with that acrid, dope-laced breath of his. “But I swear to Christ, you even _think_ about crossin’ me again, I will fuck you and your slag boytoy up so hard, you won’t know which hole to shit out of anymore. You understand me, _princess_?”

Steve flinched, fighting to keep his eyes open against the putrid stench of his breath. God, the feeling of his spit on his face felt like hot acid burning through his flesh, he felt so violated. Glaring back at Strucker he gave him one curt nod before speaking, his voice strained. “Yeah you got it. No double-crossing you and we keep our heads.”

“Good. Then if that’s that, we’re done here,” Strucker said. Stepping back, he joined Rollins at the mouth of the alley, the two of them turning to offer Steve a non-too-friendly wave back. “See ya around kid.”

Steve didn’t answer them. Instead he remained resolutely silent, watching as they finally left him alone in the alley once again. The moment they were both out of sight he slumped, feeling all the bravado in him disappear in an instant. Shit… that had been tense. But at the very least, it was over and done with. Strucker was paid off, and James was safe. To Steve, that was all that mattered.

Huffing a deep sigh, Steve angrily wiped the spit from his face and left the alley, taking the opposite way that those two bastards had gone before making a sharp right onto the main sidewalk. With nothing more he could do at that point, Steve headed out, his mind clouded with thoughts as he made the slow trek towards the bookstore. He’d almost taken the day off, but at the last second, decided he needed the distraction. It was the best thing to do when all he wanted was to curl up in bed and dwell on how broken he truly felt in the wake of these events.

Not that it mattered anyway. There was no point in hoping that this was all a dream and he would wake up to a text message from James asking how he was and if he wanted to do lunch that day. The cogs of forward motion had been set, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. James was done with him, and Steve had nothing left but to forget about the Deacon that walked into his life and totally turned it upside down. He had no choice but to worry, from that moment on, about not pissing off a psychotic drug lord and living in constant anxiety that the next person he spoke too wasn’t a nark for the wrong guy he decided to cross. That was his life now.

No going back… only forward now.

* * *

 

**Two weeks later**

James felt numb. Looking down at the paper in his hand, he couldn’t quite grasp exactly what he was staring at; this foreign anomaly that had transpired in his previously structured world. But there it was, as plain as day.

James had failed his first major exam.

Feeling a little raw, he stared down at the ugly red 48% scrawled across the top of his test, a mocking sign of his utter failure. All around him his classmates talked animatedly, some loudly proclaiming their success on the exam and leaving him feeling alienated by the whole thing. He was pretty sure it wasn’t the case, but as he balled up the paper in frustration and threw it into the nearest trash can, James felt like a mockery to the entire order of Christianity.

This wasn’t good, not in the slightest. This particular test had been a rather large chunk of this quarter’s grade, and he’d wasted all his study time wallowing in his self-misery of giving up his relationship with Steve.  But of course, he’d done just that and had pushed himself to fail his test. Thus started the domino effect of his mistakes: if he’d failed the test because of his depression, then he had to make it up. And if he had to make it up, then that meant he’d have to push back the rest of his other work. And if he had to push back the rest of his other work, that was going to impact the final stretch of his path to priesthood, and he might not get to be ordained in October. It was all a huge mess.

Sighing heavily through his nose, James shouldered his bag, and immediately turned to leave the classroom. Well… there was nothing he could do about his poor grades at that exact moment. Not when his mind was firmly locked on the only thing he could think of. To hell with going to lunch... to hell with checking in on Father Greg to talk about making up this exam. James needed to have a cigarette, or he might very well slap the first person that looked at him funny.

Overtaken by a swell of anger, his fingers trembled as he pushed his way outside and headed for the nearest smoking station. Already, he spotted a couple of his classmates there, the three of them chatting happily as they puffed away, careless of the world around them. The area was already hazy with smoke, encircling their heads like a mock-up of the Christ halo, and tempting James even further as he fished out his cigarettes and lighter.

Of course, the calming invite of sharing a smoke with his peers passed right on by the moment his feet crossed from pavement to gravel. The second his shoes crunched the tiny rocks beneath, his approach caught his classmates’ attention and they looked up, only to have their smiles fall away simultaneously. It wasn’t out of concern for the obvious look of anger on his features; it was out of disgust and some form of pious amusement. With that, whatever conversation they had came to an end and they quickly gave James a wide berth, whispering to themselves as they snickered under their breaths about him in a hushed, mockery of his presence.

Just like that, James’ anger melted into dejection, his temper simmering out and collapsing in on itself like a star. His shoulders slumped and he dropped the bag on his shoulder to gravel without a second thought, hangdog and even more broken than he had been before. James knew exactly why his classmates had given him the snub like that. Aside from the utter heartbreak of having to give up Steve, and his own unerring guilt for breaking his vow, James had been faced with a third dilemma: someone had found out about what he’d done with the Wellick couple, and decided it would be a jolly good idea to spread it to the entire seminary. While Father Greg had assured him that there would be no consequences to him for what he’d done, the rest of the staff and student body had not taken so kindly to his actions.

Of course, no one else had been present to know the full extent of what had happened, so the most anyone understood was that James had simply impersonated a real priest to perform an illegitimate Last Rites ceremony for a gay man. James hadn’t expected anyone to understand his motives, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated on the ugly backlash it had caused. Before James could comfortably say that he got along with all of his classmates and fellow seminarians, and even held quite humorous conversations with them from time to time. Now, no one even looked in his direction except to jeer him for his actions, and no one spoke to him anymore. It was just whispered mockery of his actions and spiteful jabs at his legitimacy at becoming a real priest; even most of his teachers had turned a cold shoulder on him for it.

James sighed heavily, feeling weighed down by the whole thing. Taking a moment, he screwed a cigarette into his lips and flicked the lighter open, watching the flame flare to life in front of him. It flickered in the faint breeze, a tiny little dancer twirling in the midst of this whole, terrible afternoon and entrancing James for a brief moment. In the midst of this whole nightmare, James couldn’t help but find that singular little flame to be quite beautiful… it was a spark in the otherwise dim aura of his life, one shred of light that seemed completely undeterred by the negativity he felt encompassing him on a daily basis now. For a moment, he felt like a moth, drawn to its allure and nearly forgetting about his sins and error, his heartbreak, and his sheer, utter loneliness.

The sultry twist and swirl of its burning essence eventually shook him from his revere. As he watched the flame’s dance with rapture, the butane of the lighter spurted, flaring the tiny flame a moment and jarring him back to reality. That ugly flicker of light amidst the lovely dance of serenity struck a cord inside James reminding him that his sins were still there, tainting the very essence of his being and burning a hole in the fabric of his holy life. He’d had a good thing going for himself… he had been pious, virtuous and celibate. He’d grown up exactly as he should have, and been honored for his good deeds and holy values with a second chance at living when he should have died in that accident. And what had he done? He’d ruined it all by allowing himself to fall into temptation and fall in love with a man more perfect than he could ever hope to be himself.

Shaking himself back to the moment James lit the end of the cigarette, taking a long drag on the smoke as it quietly calmed his aching nerves enough to really, rationally think about the course he’d set his life on. Even now he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself; he’d never gone back to confession to try and correct the lie he’d told Father David two weeks ago. His guilt had kept him awake for long hours every night until he grew haggard and exhausted, looking as miserable as he felt. He’d permanently changed how he viewed himself and the perfectly crafted world his parents had built for him, taking their honorable actions of turning him into a servant of the Lord, and defiled it with his own curiosity.

But, on the same token, he was sort of grateful for the guilt. It drowned out the reality of his situation, and forced him to continue focusing on what he should have done for his parents, instead of what he should be doing for himself. He’d never forgotten his initial, angry outburst at realizing what his dad had done, controlling the path of his life even from beyond the grave. He just didn’t allow himself the chance to utilize that realization in order to change his path at all and continued blindly bearing down the trail just as he always had before. It was easier that way, instead of having to reevaluate his life and figure out how he was going to change it to better suit his wants and desires.

James scoffed at that thought. His desires… what did he even know about his desires? The messed up thing about all of this was that despite James realizing he’d allowed another human being to orchestrate his entire life, or the fact that he’d broken the most perfect man’s heart in the cruelest way possible… the messed up thing about it all was he actually _liked_ what he did. He liked being able to reach out to others and comfort them with Scripture. He liked being able to extend his hand and offer up a blessing to those who needed to hear positive words of encouragement.

But did he truly like it enough to make a _living_ out of it? Not really, and James knew that with every fiber of his being.

James knew the answers to his problem. He had already figured them out weeks ago. He’d grown to love someone, had been shown a whole universe-worth of experiences laid out before him. He had been given an opportunity to shake the very foundations of this unmoving, rigid lifestyle he’d never asked for and reform it to satisfy what he enjoyed while still growing as a human being. He had had every opportunity to change his fate and allow himself the opportunity to live his life, not his father’s life… and he’d snuffed that chance and broken Steve’s heart because he was scared of change and scared of finding love again.

James sighed, cupping his jaw in his hand as he stared at the ground in front of him. It just wasn’t fair! He’d had the opportunity to love someone beyond himself and he’d panicked, terrified of the “possible bad things” that could happen if he opened his heart up once more. He’d snuffed out love again, too scarred by his loss of 13 years to chance it and the worst part was it still hurt like hell! To think that two weeks later, he was still pining for this man when he should be forgetting about him pained James, making this conflict all the more challenging. Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to run back to Steve’s arms and beg him for forgiveness for abandoning him, but he didn’t. He was too scared to, the coward that he was. So the only logical step left was to let him go at last and forget about him, go back to his old life as best as he could, and hope like hell his soul would be forgiven when he finally passed from this world.

James took another drag on the cigarette, inhaling the nicotine that was his only crutch at that moment. It should have comforted him; the burn of smoke in his throat should have been enough to calm him down even as he fed his addiction, soaking up the burning ‘need” with all of his might. But it didn’t comfort him; not in the slightest. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, all of them screaming “not fair!” as he sat there, completely lost and alone to face the fact that he’d taken the only good thing he’d had in this world and turned him away like a leper on his doorstep.

So he did the only thing he could think of to help him through this harsh decision. With a sigh, James bowed his head, letting his eyes drift shut as he offered up his thoughts to God and sought out his guidance in the name of Steve Roger’s love. “I know you’re listening,” he mumbled to himself. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t go about this very formally, but… I just need to know what to do. What do I do about everyone around me? My job, my schooling… what am I supposed to do about Steve?” James inhaled feeling his throat clenching at the thought of his lost romance. He took a moment, staving off the tears that threatened to fall before speaking again. “I just need to know what I’m supposed to do about him. Do I let him go? I just- I need your guidance, more than ever. I don’t want to be miserable anymore, God. Please.”

He finished his invocation, listening to the quiet lull of the seminary’s campus around him. For a long time James didn’t move, as if waiting for some disembodied voice to come to him and tell him exactly what he was supposed to do. But as the minutes ticked by leaving him alone on that bench, James only felt more and more dejected by this turn of events. Of course, he hadn’t gotten a sign… how juvenile of him to think it’d be that easy.

Scoffing to himself James sat up, finishing his cigarette and throwing the butt into the smoke stack next to him. He had just made a mental note to go and grab a bite to eat to quiet the demons of his mind, when movement across the street caught his attention. He looked up at the source of the noise, only to spy several seminary workers by the roadside sign, changing out the marquee for the week. Clearly, one of the students had tripped while changing out the lettering of the sign, the fall causing the others to cackle at her misfortune as they helped her back to her feet.

However, it wasn’t the antics of the students that caught James’ attention. It was the sign itself, the black lettering stark against the sign’s white backdrop. The message was short and simple, barely a statement at all if you didn’t know what it meant, but to James it held a world of meaning.

**Jeremiah 29:13**

James stood, rooted to the spot as that simple proverb resonated within him. Literally minutes after offering up his prayer to God above he’d gotten his answer. _“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.”_ Then and there, James knew exactly what that verse meant for him. He’d been wrong to try and reject Steve from his life. No wonder he’d been so miserable! He’d disrupted the natural order of his life and caused his own heart’s grief when Steve was _supposed_ to be a part of his life, the balm to his aching soul! It had just taken one, single Bible verse to show him that.

Shaking himself back to the moment, James reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone. He didn’t even have to look at his screen as he thumbed over the device and instantly dialed the number that came up. He waited carefully, his anxiety climbing up the back of his throat as he listened to the phone ringing in his ear.

His breath caught in his throat, when he heard the line connect. For a split second, he thought his call had been rejected, the line was so quiet. Frankly, James wouldn’t blame Steve if he decided to hang up on him. He might have considered doing the same if he was in Steve’s shoes. It was only when he heard a shudder of breath on the other end did James freeze, his heart lodged firmly in the back of his throat as he waited to hear what the final verdict of what Steve’s choice would be.

 _“Bucky?”_ Steve said, sounding stunned by the call. _“Buck, are you… what’s going on? Are you okay?”_

James flinched. Of course, the first thing out of Steve’s mouth would be concern for him, instead of resentment for what he’d done. Unable to help himself, James felt his emotions overtaking him, and he offered a watery sigh. “Steve… Steve, I’m… I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted you or something but I need to talk to you. Are you busy?”

 _“No, not right now. I’m free,”_ Steve said, sounding hesitant. _“What is it you wanna talk to me about?”_

James swallowed. “It’s about what I did to you. I realized- I mean, what I wanted to say was…” James hesitated, before speaking in a rush. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, leaving you, and I n-need to see you again. Please, Steve… I’m so sorry for what I did. Please, _please_ forgive me for rejecting you! I want to take it back!”

James fell silent after his plea, listening. Steve didn’t respond right away which only fueled his worries that perhaps he was too little, too late in begging for his forgiveness. But just when he readied to tuck tail and flee from this moment (just as he was apparently good at), he heard a faintly relieved laugh escape Steve, and his hopes raised. _“Jesus, Bucky… I already did forgive you, babe. Please don’t be upset, I swear, it’s all okay. Where are you? I’m coming over right now.”_

James wanted to cry with relief. Hearing Steve promise him that he’d forgiven him so easily soothed his soul and he found himself slumping back against the smoking station’s pillar. “I’m at the seminary, b-but… no, don’t come here. I’ll meet you at Maria Hernandez. It’s only ten minutes from here… I think it’s better if we talk there.”

 _“You got it, Buck. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”_ Steve’s voice lofted over the phone, relaxing James’ mind as he spoke. However before he could hang up, Steve spoke up again. _“And Bucky? Listen to me when I say this… I don’t hate you for what happened. I understand why you did what you did, so please don’t beat yourself up over it anymore. I’m just glad that you reached out to me again.”_

James smiled, feeling a little better than he had moments ago. “I believe you, Stevie… I’ll see you in a few minutes okay?” With that the two hung up and James turned for the street, jogging as quickly as he could to get to the park. He knew he shouldn’t have left the campus, not when he had a second class that afternoon… then again nothing mattered as much as this one chance to see Steve again and make right what he’d done two weeks ago. His test could be retaken later. His classes could be made up. Fixing what he’d broken with Steve, that mattered more than anything.

Time passed in a blur as James left the campus unseen, jogging as quickly as he could down the sidewalk towards his destination. His bag bounced heavily on his shoulder as James kept his eyes forward, pushing his way past pedestrians as he ran and ignoring their protests at his rudeness. He didn’t care about apologizing at that moment for bumping into so many people. He was on a mission, dammit, and he wasn’t about to be late and make Steve wait for him any longer than he needed to.

Within minutes, James made it to the park in question. Panting heavily he came to a stop at the very entrance of the park, looking left and right for any signs of a blond head of hair or a muscled figure. Near frantic at this point, he tightened his grip on the cross strap of his bag, turning in a slow circle as he waited impatiently to find his friend. The minutes dragged by, melding one into another as he remained totally alone, a sole figure in a sea of faceless entities as he waited for Steve to show up. But the longer he stood there the less confident he became, until at long last it seemed that Steve would not be showing up after all.

James felt the crushing weight of his disappointment as he leaned into the park gate for support. It’d be just what he deserved if Steve had lied about meeting him just to make him chase his shadow. He would have deserved nothing less if Steve were truly angry with him. Quite suddenly, all his good feelings dissipated once again leaving him feeling hollow with self-resentment. He’d done this to himself. He’d waited too long to beg forgiveness for what he’d done and he’d still expected a full recovery to their relationship? He was such an idiot…

Of course, James forgot exactly who it was he’d fallen in love with and forgot exactly what that perfect man would do for him even in the worst of situations. Before he could lose himself entirely and truly believe this had all been for naught, he heard a voice call his name… a painfully familiar voice he hadn’t heard in person in two weeks. His head snapped up at the sound of Steve’s voice and he instantly spied the man in question, his eyes wide in shock. Holy Mother… Steve had shown up! He didn’t hate James!

“Steve!” James shouted, waving back at him. The moment their eyes met, James felt his stomach clench at the absolute devotion he could see in the man’s blue gaze, and he choked on a half sob. HIs eyes burned with relieved tears as he tore himself from the gate and ran to Steve, yanking him into a tight hug. That hug, so simple yet powerful, felt like coming home after a long day and he settled right into the cradle of his grasp, his right arm a vice-like grip around his waist. “Steve… oh God Steve, I can’t believe you showed up!” he exclaimed, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Can’t believe it? Buck, why wouldn’t I?” Steve asked. He broke the hug long enough to look down at the Deacon, his eyes searching him. From what James could see, Steve was fighting back his own swell of emotion, his cheeks flushed and his blue eyes glowing with relief. “Why the hell wouldn’t I come see you?”

James swallowed. Looking down at the ground, he felt ashamed of his own thoughts, and he shrugged sheepishly. “I-I dunno… I thought you’d be angry at me for leaving you. What I did to you, that was… that was the cruelest thing I could have done to any person. You, least of all, didn’t deserve it just like I don’t deserve you forgiving me! I just thought maybe you’d realize that and change your mind about speaking to me and-!”

“Bucky... stop,” Steve said, interrupting him. He reached up, pressing his finger into James’ lower lip to silence his rant. When James looked up at him, he saw the understanding in his features, the pain of rejection and the hope of being taken back, and oh God, this man was too good for him. James nearly whimpered when Steve leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead and he practically melted into his grip. “Bucky… Bucky, I don’t hate you. I’m not angry at you for what happened, _please_ don’t think like that. Okay?” Drawing his attention to him Steve tilted James’ head up to meet his gaze again, imploring him to listen. “If I hated you would I be standing here right now? It was a fucked up situation, but it’s okay… things are okay between us. I mean it.”

James listened to Steve begging him to believe him and he realized quite suddenly that this should have been the other way around. _James_ should have been the one begging, not Steve. He listened to his words, a minute shake to his head as he realized exactly what kind of good, incredible soul he’d almost pushed away. He should have lost him… but somehow the fates had decided that they shouldn’t be separated after all when he deserved nothing less. It was a miracle in and of itself and James had never been more grateful for this unbelievable turn of events.

“Stevie,” James mumbled. He leaned forward, hugging him tightly as they stood together, two souls rooted together in time as the world marched on around them. It was near perfection, just the two of them against the world. How could his life be any different from this? James didn’t know but he’d never be able to go on without Steve in his life, that was for sure. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry just so much has happened. I didn’t think I deserved to be able to talk to you again.”

“What happened?” Steve asked. He rubbed his back soothing, the two of them relaxing at long last. He allowed James a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke again, massaging his back. “Buck… what happened while I was gone?”

James heard the concern in his voice and he flinched. Looking away from Steve, he struggled to muster up the words, his lip caught between his teeth. “It’s… I made such a mistake. I thought my life would go back to the way it was after I left you. It didn’t. It got worse. I can’t sleep at night, I miss you every day. Worst of all, I’ve become a laughing stock at the seminary and completely lost the respect of everyone I’m working with-”

“Wait, wait. Laughing stock?” Steve asked. Instantly, his voice took on a sharp turn, and James frowned as he saw the anger swelling in his gaze. “What do you mean? What are people saying?”

James sighed, realizing too late that he should have kept this bit to himself. Oh well, it was already out in the open as it was... “Some students found out about the Wellick incident. It’s been going around the campus for days. People have been mocking me for what I did, stating I’m an unfit student, that I made a mockery of the priest’s name. No one talks to me there anymore, hardly even my teachers do. It’s rough. I just thought maybe things would be normal again and that I could delude myself into thinking nothing changed… and yet _everything_ has changed.”

Steve growled under his breath, cursing as he glared at the park gate. “Smug, holier than thou bastards,” he mumbled under his breath. He didn’t even bother to hide his anger from James at this point… not that he blamed him in the slightest. Normally, James might have protested Steve’s opinions on his religious peers, but for the first time in his life, he actually agreed with his sentiment. “Christ Bucky, I’m so sorry this happened to you…”

“It’s not your fault, Steve. It’s mine,” James said quietly. “I did all of this to myself. All of it.” James groaned in defeat, pressing his cheek to Steve’s shoulder. Silence fell between them both, drawing out the moments as they comforted one another. The longer he remained in Steve’s arms, the better James felt his heartache easing little by little. He almost felt human again, as if the past several days hadn’t had such an impact on him. Of course, it made sense to him why that was the case. Steve had become his better half, his partner in crime. It was a hell of a thing, feeling incomplete for so long and not understanding why. This? This right here felt like his whole reason for existing, and he couldn’t have been more pleased with that.

As he held Steve close to his chest, never wanting to move, Steve suddenly pulled back his earlier angry expression melting into one of a more mischievous nature. “Hey… listen. I get what it’s like to feel so conflicted you don’t know what to do with yourself. But seriously? Fuck what those guys said. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. It’s not fair no matter what they might think.” Steve smiled at him, cupping his chin in his palm as he spoke. “I think, however, if it’s bothering you that much I might have a way to help get your mind off of it, if you trust me enough to help…”

James considered it. He offered one, aborted nod as he allowed Steve to tug him from the park’s entrance towards the street. “Okay… how do we do that?”

Steve smirked. He gave him one brief look before gesturing to the street and James followed his line of sight, expecting to find Steve’s car there. That’s not what he found. Instead of his car, James spied a black and silver motorcycle, the machine standing stark against the backdrop of an industrial Brooklyn corner. The bike was old-looking, at least twenty years old, yet the exhaust piping and metallic body shone in the sunlight, buffed by a loving hand and cleaned regularly. In answer to James’ apparent confusion, Steve spoke up. “Sometimes when I have a lot on my mind or if I need a moment to myself, I use a little bike therapy to help clear my thoughts. A lot of times, the engine roaring or the wind whipping by is just what I need to clear my head and bring me back down to Earth. C’mon. I’ll take you for a ride.”

James listened, his eyes blowing wide in growing fright. “You want me to get on the back of that _thing_?!” he exclaimed. Shooting the motorcycle one last terrified look James swallowed around the lump of fear in his throat, backing away from the curb as if worried that thing would leap off its kickstand and run him over. He barely liked riding in a _car_ half the time! The last thing he needed was to get on the back of a deathtrap, two-wheeled nightmare machine and bet his life on two pieces of rubber and no protection. “No way! Are you _crazy_ , I don’t belong on a motorcycle!”

Steve listened, his expression patiently neutral. He reached out for James, placing his hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Sure you do. You just don’t know it yet.” When James shook his head vigorously against his counter argument Steve leaned in, pressing his forehead to his to calm him down. “Listen to me. You want me to help you right? You do trust me don’t you?”

The moment their foreheads touched, James relaxed, even marginally. Jesus… Steve had a way with calming him down, even if he didn’t want it. Regretfully, James took the comforting gesture from Steve and finally relaxed, his eyes darting to the bike for a moment before he found his voice again. “Y-yes… I do, but-”

“But nothing,” Steve said. He reached up, rubbing his cheek with his thumb before smiling. “I’ve been riding for years. I swear on my soul, I am not going to let anything happen to you. But think of it this way… you’re scared. Scared of making decisions or doing something out of the realm of what’s expected of you right? And you want to change that, don’t you?” James offered up a weak nod once more, nervously confirming Steve’s words. Steve chuckled in return. “Then let me help you. We won’t go for very long… at the very least let me take you home. Then if you never want to ride again, I won’t make you. But I think you need to prove to yourself that you can do this. That you’re stronger than you think. Maybe it will help…”

James listened to him. His stomach clenched up in anxiety at the thought, though Steve’s words did make sense. For years James had let his fears and his past accident be the guiding force behind his decisions. He never really branched out anymore, or experienced much else in his life. He’d been so focused on his vocation, he’d almost completely forgotten that there was a whole world of possibilities around him. Steve had, quite literally, been the open door to a life outside of the church and frankly James was really starting to like the view.

With that thought, James swallowed, forcing himself to calm down just a bit and accept Steve’s words at long last. Besides, if Steve said he’d never make James ride again after he gave him a lift home James knew that he meant every word of it. With that promise the Deacon finally accepted his offer, though he wasn’t shy about showing how scared he actually felt. “O-okay… but my bag. Is it going to be safe on the bike?”

“I have a saddlebag. We can stow it away, so it’s not hanging off the back of the bike,” Steve said. With that, he wrapped his fingers around James’ wrist, tugging him for the curb. He gently took James’ bag from him, settling it and his cell phone inside the saddlebag he’d spoken off before brushing his hands off and gesturing to the bike. “There, all set.”

James nodded, wringing his fingers in the hem of his shirt. He swallowed, nervousness apparent on his features as he watched Steve climb onto the bike and turn the key. He waited his eyes darting to the street every so often as the blond turned the fuel valve to ‘On’, his fingers wrapped around the clutch as he shifted to neutral before pressing start. When the engine suddenly roared to life, rumbling loudly as the bike idled James flinched and ducked his gaze from the expectant look Steve offered him, wondering if he could possibly back out of this arrangement still and run screaming in the other direction.

But… no. He’d promised Steve he’d try this. He’d promised himself (albeit subconsciously) that he’d take his first steps out of his comfort zone and actually live a little. He had to do this even if it was just for a little bit. With that, he inched closer to the bike, reaching out for Steve’s shoulder as he carefully swung his leg up, and straddled the bike awkwardly. The toes of his shoes brushed the ground as he adjusted his position, getting comfortable on the back before finally placing his feet on the pegs and balancing precariously some two feet off the ground. He tried his best to imagine the tremble in his figure was from the power of the engine idling and not his own nerves making him shivered like a child, and he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist as tightly as he could. “A-alright… Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Steve smirked. Without a word, he reached into a small pouch on the side of the bike’s fuel tank, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and handing them to James. “I have an extra pair. You’re gonna want to wear this while we ride so your eyes are protected from the wind.”

James nodded, taking the glasses. Without complaint, he slipped them on, before gripping tightly to Steve’s waist once again. He remained silent as Steve slipped his own sunglasses on and walked the bike backwards from where he’d parked, getting ready to pull out into traffic. This was the part that scared him to hell, and he found himself shuddering as he tightened his grip around Steve’s waist, tight enough that even his arm hurt from the pressure. He couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable that must feel for Steve, though it did little to persuade him into loosening his grip.

The moment he felt the bike’s transmission shift from neutral to first gear, James whined as he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in Steve’s back like his life depended on it. In his clutches, James felt Steve chuckle though he didn’t move to comfort him. Instead James felt the bike suddenly glide forward, picking up speed rapidly as Steve pulled into traffic and merging fluidly from a dead stop into the busy streets of Brooklyn. The wind whistled and howled as Steve navigated the busy roads. With terrifying precision, the bike cut through the air like a knife, zipping along as the engine purred louder with each time Steve changed gears effortlessly.

It was… it was actually not as bad as he’d thought it would be.

As they rode, James eventually reasoned with himself that if they were going to crash, they would have done so by now. Taking a deep breath, he plucked up the courage to open his eyes finally after an extensive internal pep talk and lifted his head, choosing wisely to wait until he felt the bike beginning to slow down. The moment the bike came to a full stop at a red light, James’ vision cleared, sun-blinded by the light in front of them as he took a moment to survey exactly where they were. Somehow, during his entire freak-out, the two of them had crossed a third of Brooklyn, the sight of the suspension bridge visible to their left. The seminary was nowhere near the Brooklyn bridge… and he’d survived the whole ride there. “Wow…”

“Yeah, it’s fun. Told you you could do it!” Steve said gleefully, speaking up over the rumble of the engine. “Though I think you should try and loosen your grip on my waist. I think you’ll have more fun if you don’t try to hold onto me so tight.”

James nodded, working up the nerve to do as he was told. Steve knew what he was doing… of course, he knew what he was doing. Steve would never let anything happen to James. That is, of course, why he’d allowed him to drag him onto this death machine in the first place. Taking a deep breath James sat back, allowing himself to lean into the passenger back rest as he watched the light turn green. “Where are you taking me now?”

“I dunno. Just for a ride,” Steve said, shouting over the wind rushing past them. He didn’t look back at Bucky as he pulled away from the stop, looking right at home on this motorcycle. James took the moment to catalogue what he was seeing, relishing the sight of Steve looking so calm and collected. He looked like a supermodel, his hair whipping in the wind and his smile, calm and serene as he tackled the open road before them with many years’ worth of experience at his disposal. “Sometimes you don’t need a destination. The journey itself is half the fun.”

James nodded. Feeling a little more confident in himself he relaxed into the seat of the bike, watching as the city spun past them like a kaleidoscope of colors and life passing them by. He kept his fingers firmly locked in Steve’s shirt holding tightly to him for support, but for the most part, he had relaxed in his spot, enjoying the moment for what it was. To think that Steve had done so much for him in this short amount of time that he’d known him. He’d shown him what romance could be like, he’d taught James how to appreciate the finer things in life… hell, he’d even gotten him on the back of a motorcycle when he’d been too scared to even pick up driving anymore!

As he sat, cuddled up behind Steve as they rode together, James’ mind wandered briefly, drifting off into outer space as he began to reevaluate his entire life. All these changes that had occurred in his world, coloring his previously black and white views and drawing new meaning into his existence, James suddenly pictured himself in the movie Pleasantville. He pictured himself as Betty Parker as she oh so gradually transitioned from her perfect, boring life to a world of color, excitement and sexual exploration, and he felt his cheeks blushing at that implication. Steve… he’d unlocked this whole new world to James effortlessly, proved to him that there was more than just the boundaries of his seminary lifestyle. He’d learned what his body could feel and how to capture those stunning, lighter-than-air pleasures and release them in an explosion of delight that rivaled the blessings of God and he’d learned to appreciate how beautiful sex could feel. It was incredible how drastically someone else’s views could change his own, how drastically someone’s love could influence his own heart, drawing life into a world that had been so structurally sound before.

No, not structurally sound… rigid and unmoving. James had cloistered himself into a routine, day in and day out, focused on one goal and one alone. But the moment Steve had stepped into the picture, his life had taken on new meaning again, coloring the edges of his perfect world with the faintest touches of a rainbow, until the changes began to bleed into one another, overtaking everything he ever knew. Like an oil spill that structured black and white mold had melted away into a more vibrant, meaningful existence full of nuances and variety and drawing James further from the pigeon-hole of his life’s choices. Even now as he rode that motorcycle for the first time he found himself entranced with the world whipping past them both, the swirl of colors and lights sparking his senses like fireworks darting across his vision. He watched, stunned into silence as those sparks coalesced in a perfectly wild display tantalizing his senses like the lightshow of the world’s most prolific entertainer.

This was life, enjoying it for what it was and never looking back with regret. This was the world, the perfect combination of broken and beautiful, dark shadows and neon lights. As he sat on the back of that motorcycle, actually actively enjoying the wind messing his hair up and stinging his cheeks as the city zipped past them both, James realized quite suddenly that there would never be going back. Steve had irreparably changed his life for the better, brought a chaotic and beautiful rainbow lighting the fringes of his world and he could never in a million years, _ever_ force himself to go back to the way things were before. He loved Steve too much to allow himself to succumb to that mistake.

It seemed, then, that his momentary daydream would finally come to an end. As James cuddled into Steve’s back, enjoying the scenery moving past them like a river someone pulled out in front of the bike, cutting Steve off. James heard Steve curse suddenly, applying the brakes quickly as he swerved the handlebar to prevent skidding forward and clipping the guy’s bumper and the magical moment was shattered in an instant. For a split second the bike jerked forward, throwing James into a wild moment of panic as he felt himself rock forward in the seat. Almost instantly, he was transported from his beautiful, neon daydream and thrown headlong into an icy, Indiana town, skidding across frozen pavement as his arm was ripped from his body in a gruesome fountain of red. He saw nothing but smoke and sparks, flickering flames of a burning engine and corpses of the three people he’d loved for most of his life strewn about him. He knew nothing but the growing realization that death was dancing on his doorstep, beckoning him with the comforting promise of no more pain and suffering.

No. No, he couldn’t go through that again. Not again! Thrown headlong into these nightmarish flashbacks, James scrambled as quickly from their clutches as he could, screaming in fright as he collapsed forward, wrapped tightly around Steve’s waist in terror. “No! No, no no…” he gasped, his heart hammering wildly in his chest and his head swimming dangerously with adrenaline. “No more, please. I’m done. I’m done, Steve, I want to get off now!”

Cursing under his breath, Steve looked back at the panicking Deacon, offering him a saddened look before he instantly pulled off to the side of the road. He killed the engine the moment they were safely parked, jumping instantly from the seat and pulled James into his arms. James took the opportunity, his trembling figure collapsing into his grip as Steve held him close and comforted him with a soft kiss to his temple. “Shit, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, that guy was a total asshole. He didn’t even see me. You’re okay, Buck. You’re okay, you did so well.” Looking down at James, he offered him a proud smile as he spoke. “Seriously, you rode for almost an hour. That’s amazing, babe! I’m so proud of you for trying for me.”

James nodded, taking Steve’s words to heart. Okay, sure he’d done well, but he’d nearly wet the bike for no reason at all! Steve had had control of the situation from the beginning. Even looking back, James realized that they hadn’t even come close to hitting the other car, and here he stood in the midst of a panic attack, trembling like a child! Great… so much for not embarrassing himself in Steve’s presence. With that shamed thought, he lifted his head from where he’d had it pillowed on Steve’s shoulder and offered him a sheepish smile. “Y-Yeah… that’s great. C-can we go home now before I embarrass myself any further?”

Steve smirked. Looking up from where he’d met James’ gaze, he gave the road a calculating look. “Yeah, but we gotta get the bike to my place. Good thing is, it’s real close by. Think you can make it there?”

James considered it. He didn’t know where Steve lived but he trusted him when he said his home was close by. Besides, he’d always wanted to see where it was he lived… maybe his freak-out was the perfect opportunity sneak in that opportunity while he could. “Yeah, I think I can. Just… maybe go slower? Just in case?”

“Of course, babe. Anything you want.”

James sighed, comforted by Steve’s promise. He still didn’t know if he could possibly handle the ride back to his apartment, but he trusted Steve enough to get him there safely. He’d always trust Steve from this moment on with everything he possibly could face in this world.

In the end, James knew he’d made the right decision reaching out to Steve once again. He didn’t know exactly what that entailed for his future or what might happen now that he’d opened his heart back up to him but if this motorcycle ride was his totem, the symbol of how deeply Steve cared for him and would do anything to protect him, then James knew that God had designed the universe to bring them together. Who was he to reject that kind of gift from the Almighty?

* * *

 

The sun had set hours ago, setting a comfortable chill in the air. Steve didn’t mind the sudden drop in temperature. All that meant for him was a very cuddly James, the two of them tucked into the cushions of his broken down sofa as they lay together, silently reveling in the moment to just “be”, and ignore the world around them.

Steve lay quietly beneath James, the Deacon pillowed on his chest and dozing peacefully. Steve watched him carefully, his fingers brushing along the expanse of his spine as he soothed him in his light slumber. Christ… James looked like he’d had it hard the past two weeks. The emotional turmoil of being dumped had been hard on Steve, hard enough that he’d barely eaten. But he couldn’t imagine how hard the guilt of his vocation had been on him, right alongside the fact that he’d had to give up his first and only relationship for a _job,_ and still faced the backlash of an entire community for one, infinitesimal mistake.

Sure… By rights, Steve knew he should have been pissed at James for dumping him and then crawling back to him two weeks later, but he just couldn’t. So instead of allowing himself to feel even remotely angry, Steve busied himself with reminiscing over the past several hours and appreciating them for what they were, cuddled up and focusing on each other, like the rest of the world just didn’t mean a damn thing to them.

Shortly after their ride had ended, Steve had taken the opportunity and led James upstairs, chatting merrily to him to take his mind off the terrifying ride before introducing the Deacon to his loft with enthusiasm. The apartment was large by many standards of living in this neck of Brooklyn. It was an open plan apartment with brick lined walls and a sloped ceiling that led to a skylight in the very center of his living room. The kitchen, off to their left, was large as well, separated from the living room by a half-wall that was brick lined just like the remainder of the apartment. Steve didn’t have exactly the best kitchenware in it, but it did him just fine. In the living room, the walls that were not accented with bricks were a simple white, and lined with dozens upon dozens of movie and videogame posters of every kind. The strange collage of images clashed against each other until it was unclear where each poster began and ended, and dotted from floor to ceiling like gaudy wallpaper. There were three potted plants in the room, scattered across the place and giving off odd touches of brownish green in the strangest of places, and in the middle of the living room was the broken down, brown sofa they were both resting on.

On the far side of the room, Steve looked up to the television fixed to the wall, almost as large as James’ fancier TV, and next to the television was a cable box, a computer, and a gaming console, all situated on a large desk. Two lamps decorated the room, their off-colored brass accents clashing with the brown of the sofa, and the faded-color posters that covered the walls around them. At the side of the table, he spied a stack of sketch books, the pages falling out of the bindings and showing off a collection of pencil drawings, all black and white, as they sat forgotten on the table.

Steve had just decided maybe he’d add a few more drawings to the book while his visitor slept on his chest, when he felt James stirring at long last. He looked down at the Deacon, watching as his eyes fluttered open from his half-nap, and he offered him a weak smile. “Hey. Feeling a little better?” he asked, pushing his fingers into the tangled strands of brown hair in front of him.

James nodded. He carefully got up, rubbing at his eyes as the two of them resituated themselves, sitting next to each other on the lumpy sofa. “Yeah. Much better. I didn’t realize a death-defying motorcycle ride could make you really tired. M’sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s okay. You make a terrific blanket,” Steve said, rubbing his shoulder where it had been cricked at an awkward angle on the sofa. “So… how are you feeling from earlier? Did you think about what you wanted to talk to me about?”

For a moment, James didn’t answer him. He seemed torn, reminded of why he’d truly called this meeting between the two of them, and he sighed. “Yes, I thought about it. Mostly, I wanted to take back what I said to you… about giving you up for the church. It was… probably the stupidest thing I could ever have done and I will never forgive myself for hurting you like that.”

Steve listened to him, allowing the Deacon to apologize once again about his mistake. While he didn’t hate James for what he’d done, the tiniest part of him - that part of him that was still human and painfully susceptible to heartache- relished seeing the brunet groveling to him. It wasn’t out of spite, per se. Seeing him looking so pained by his choice only comforted Steve simply because it told him that he truly did care for Steve, as much as Steve cared for him. Even still, he didn’t allow himself the opportunity to dwell on those thoughts for long. Instead, he cleared his throat simply for something to do, and wrapped his arm around James’ waist. “I can tell there’s a but in there…” he said, looking down at James carefully. “You’re sorry for dumping me, _but_ …”

James shook his head instantly. Looking up from where he’d tucked himself into Steve’s side, he frowned deeply. “It’s… I don’t know! This is the hard thing, Steve, and I wish it wasn’t so difficult. But… the thing is, I don’t want to let you go, but at the same time I don’t know if I want to let go of my career either… not yet at least. I still love what I do, but there are things I can see about this career path that I really don’t like and don’t want to be a part of. Besides… there’s a reason why I joined the seminary in the first place. If I back out now, I feel like I’ll be slapping that reason in the face, and that hurts more than I thought it would.”

“What’s the reason you joined?” Steve asked. He rubbed his hand across James’ shoulder, comforting his tension as he listened to him.

James hesitated. He looked highly uncomfortable with the topic, and he forced himself to look away from Steve before he was able to speak again. “That’s... I don’t want to go into it. Just- it’s enough to say that it was a huge influence on my life decisions, and that’s one reason why it’s so hard for me to figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

“So what are we looking at?” Steve asked. He slumped back into the cushions of the broken sofa, cursing himself for not going back to get the new one like he should have. “Are we still at a stalemate, you and I? You don’t want to let me go, but you don’t want to leave your religious career behind either.” He looked down at the Deacon, watching with resignation as he nodded once, confirming his thoughts.

“Yes… and no,” James interjected, looking up at him. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Steve. I care about you too much to let you go, but I don’t want this to be something that hurts you later on, either.” At that statement, James whined in the back of his throat, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye. “This is so hard…”

Steve sighed, allowing the Deacon a chance to be miserable. He didn’t say anything, simply offering his comfort as he held him close to his side. The moments ticked by, quiet ebbs of time flowing past on a sea of uncertainty, and drowning them both in the difficulty of this decision. James was right… none of this was fair at all. It was just par for the course of Steve’s life that he’d decided to fall in love with someone with the _worst_ baggage he’d ever seen in his life.

Closing his eyes, Steve could almost picture their dilemma played out before them: he himself, standing on the shore of one life, his world splattered with tiny starlights, laughter and chaos, a Picasso-like portrait of sexual experiences, pleasures and every other ingredient in the melting pot of debauchery James’ world viewed it as. On the other side of that dividing sea, stood James, as rigid as stone, carved out of white marble and standing in unyielding formation with the rest of his world. He’d been carved, molded and shaped into the figure his life experiences expected out of him, leaving his world cold and pale as he viewed life passing him by and never really experiencing it.

But… Steve had reached out. He’d breached that dividing sea and touched James, lifting the veil of his immovable, religious blindness to show him a world outside of his structure. And miraculously of all, James had begun to open up, his stone facade had begun to crumble, drawing him into the starry realm of reality and away from that pale, boring life he’d grown up in. Even now, their hands remained clasped over that dividing sea, and Steve’s influence continued to pour into James, drawing him closer and closer to his world and breaking his foundations to prove to him that there was more to life than what he’d previously believed.

He’d made a difference. Miraculously, he’d made a difference in James’ life, by just being himself and appreciating James for all his problems and his desires to change. Now, Steve knew he couldn’t let go of James, and to his utter relief, he knew James felt the same way. They were locked firmly together, drawing closer and closer as that dividing sea evaporated between them, and James’ stone walls diminished day by day. Sure, he had a long way to go before he felt totally comfortable with living a life that _just maybe_ differed from the chiseled, narrow box of reality he’d grown up believing in, but that made sense. Of course it’d take time to grow used to something so different, and Steve would be there to help him every step of the way.

Now, more than ever, Steve knew he couldn’t let James go on dwelling on his pain like this. He had to prove to him that it was okay to be uncertain and still take the plunge into life-changing events. And even in the end, if they didn’t end up being together, Steve knew he would have done his part, as long as James came out of this, stronger and more confident than he had been his whole life.

With that thought in mind, Steve turned to James, cupping his cheek in hand and drawing his attention to him. When James opened his mouth to question what he was doing, Steve leaned in, pressing his lips to James’ and silencing his questions. Almost instantly, he felt the Deacon melt into his touch, slumping chest to chest with him as he wrapped his arm around his shoulders to hold on for dear life. The faintest sigh of delight escaped the Deacon at that gentle kiss, and he almost immediately opened up, tongue prodding forward as he licked at the seam of Steve’s lips, begging to delve deeper without hesitation.

Steve gave into it readily. Letting his fingers drift back to his neck, he cupped him gently, pulling James closer as he opened up, sighing in delight as he felt James’ tongue instantly dart forward, sampling his flavor for the first time in two weeks. He was just as sweet as he remembered him, and Steve found himself shivering openly as they reconnected in just the way their souls both needed it. Moments passed, fluidly melding from one to the next as they kissed, warm breaths mingling and fingers tightening on skin as they held tightly to one another. It was only when his head began to spin with the need to breathe, did Steve finally break the connection, the two of them panting heavily as they held onto each other.

“Steve,” James said, breathless with the moment as he looked up at him. “What’re you-”

“Shh,” Steve mumbled. Without giving him a chance to speak, he leaned in, wrapping his arm around his back, and hoisting him to his feet. He didn’t even give James a chance to question him again, before he suddenly bent, scooping him into his arms and holding him bridal style. Deep down, Steve was thankful for the fact that James was thinner than average for his age. His back protested the sudden change in weight, aching just a bit more than usual, but he kept that thought to himself as he looked down at a bewildered Bucky in his arms. Instead, he offered him a loving look, carrying him from the living room to his bedroom, kicking the door open and trudging to the bed, where he dropped him to the mattress with a careful hand.

The moment James was sprawled out on the bed beneath him, Steve leaned in, pressing his lips to the base of his throat and eliciting a heady little moan from the man as he slumped to the mattress bonelessly. Steve tutted, smirking to himself as he lapped at his pulse point, sucking the faintest of marks into his skin before pulling back to give him a knowing look. “Listen to me when I say this: I can’t make the decision for you. What you choose to do with your career and your life is your call, and I ain’t gonna be the next person in a long list of people that have told you how exactly you’re supposed to live your life. All I can do is continue to support you and care for you as you’re goin’ through this, alright?”

James listened to him, his eyes wide as he stared up at the blond in awe. “But… what about us? Our- our relationship?”

Steve shrugged, meeting his gaze with all the devotion he could muster in his own. “I ain’t going anywhere. I’m right here for you, and I’m gonna be here for you as long as you want me around. If we gotta keep this between us for however long we need to, then we keep it our secret. I’m not gonna tell any if you won’t tell anyone. And in the end, if you decide to keep on the path with your vocation and finish becoming a priest, then we’ll cross that road when we get to it and decide from there how we want to approach our relationship. If, however, you decide in the end that you don’t want to continue your career path, then I will do my damn hardest to make sure I help you transition into something else. Whatever you decide to do, I’m gonna work my fuckin’ ass off to make sure you’re happy. You just have to promise me one thing.”

James listened, his eyes glistening as he took in his earnest words. With a careful, aborted gesture, James nodded as he waited for Steve to continue. “What is it? What do you need me to do?”

Steve smirked. Before he answered him, he leaned back, kneeling on the bed as he quickly shucked off his t-shirt, throwing it to the floor and leaving himself topless in front of James. “Don’t ever let yourself forget what it is you’ve experienced, and don’t let yourself fall back on old habits. Use your experiences to shape your future, not scare you back into the past. That’s all I’m asking you to do. Sound fair?”

James listened to him, struck dumb by his statement. Steve caught sight of his lower lip trembling just the tiniest bit as he processed his words, before he gave a short, eager nod, confirming that he would do exactly as Steve asked of him. “Yes… I can do that,” he said, smiling at him.

Steve grinned, leaning down once again. However, instead of diving in for a kiss as James had expected, he suddenly reached out, undoing the buttons of James’ shirt, one by one, before he was tugging that white button-up open, exposing his bare chest and the harness of his prosthesis to the cool, bedroom air around them. He was proud to see James instantly reacting just as he should have, instead of hesitantly letting Steve tug him along for the ride; with a confident look, James sat up, reaching up to undo the straps of his harness and letting the heavy device fall to the bed, leaving him totally exposed to the blond before him and waiting eagerly for his next action.

Stunning, really. Steve couldn’t believe how comfortably James allowed himself to be exposed after their two week break. A giddy surge welled up in his chest as he leaned in, kissing along the scarred plains of his shoulder and side with all the reverence he could muster. “This is a good start,” Steve mumbled, lips brushing daintily across one particularly thick keloid as his fingers massaged the tense muscles of his back.

“I figured you’ve already seen it,” James said, gasping slightly when Steve’s tongue danced up his shoulder to the crook of his neck, and to the tiny stretch of sensitive skin behind his ear. “You already know I’m a cripple, so there’s no point in hiding it anymore.”

“You’re not a cripple,” Steve said, patiently countering his self-deprecating statement with a confident twirl of his tongue against the shell of his ear. “You’re beautiful and perfect, and strong. I've never been with someone as amazing as you, and I’m never going to find someone like you again. That’s a fact.”

James whimpered. Reaching up, he cupped the back of Steve’s head, tugging slightly on the blond strands as he pulled him closer, the two of them collapsing back against the bed. “I missed this,” James mumbled, writhing beneath Steve as he wrapped his leg around his thigh and pulled him flush to rut against his leg.

“I did too. Let’s just hope you don’t go bolting out of my apartment in the middle of a panic attack again, when we’re done,” Steve said, smirking a little. Okay, so maybe he was a little more burned by the last time they had sex than he thought. Sneaking in that little jab against James’ past decisions sort or… _slipped out_ , though he still meant every word of it. He just hoped that his words had made a difference to James.

James laughed, a weak, sheepish sound as he leaned back, looking up at his friend with apology clearly written on his features.”I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Nope,” Steve said, waggling a brow at him. “I’ve got my perfect blackmail when I want something from you. You’ve been warned now.”

James grinned, shaking his head at Steve fondly.  “I’ll endeavor to try my very hardest not to panic. But I won’t run out on you. I swear. I meant it when I said I regretting pushing you away. I’m not going to do it again.”

Steve smiled, unable to hide his laughter at James’ promise. “I’m holding you to it, Buck. You better believe that,” he said, leaning in. He captured him in a demanding kiss, his fingers massaging comforting circles into his shoulders as he pinned him to the bed beneath him. He could feel James arching up against him, seeking out more touches, and Steve knew that this was definitely going in the right direction. He ground down against him in return, the pitch of his cock pressing against the Deacon’s thigh as they rocked against each other, desperately seeking out each other through the covering of their jeans before he huffed a frustrated sound.

“Mm… fuckin’ things,” Steve growled. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back, attacking the belt that kept James’ jeans fastened with all the urgency he could muster. However, as he did so, he was surprised to find the brunet suddenly sit up, his hand darting out to work the button of _his_ pants open and skillfully popping the fabric open in record time. Steve was so surprised by James’ sudden boldness, he sat back completely, watching as the brunet continued to work, his attention fully on divesting Steve of his clothing as quickly as possible. “Bucky?”

“You can sit there looking pretty if you want,” James said, darting a hungry look at the blond. “Or you can help me get these jeans off. Your choice, though I’d really appreciate the assistance.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Steve said, laughing openly. It was so out of character for the Deacon, Steve couldn’t help but break his promise on taking the Lord’s name in vain, in front of him. “What did I do to your innocence?”

“I’m not sure, but this is taking too long,” James said, managing to wriggle Steve’s jeans down his hips a bit. “You might want to hurry up before I get cold feet, you know.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he swatted at James’ hand, pushing back as he climbed off the bed. With fluid motions, he divested himself of his clothing entirely, kicking his shoes off and throwing them across the bedroom before his jeans went flying as well. The moment he was completely naked, Steve turned his attention back to James, working on plucking the remainder of his clothes off and tossing them to land somewhere in his bedroom.

Within minutes, the two men were finally, gloriously naked together, and Steve succumbed to the moment, dropping down to the bed as he felt James tug him on top of himself. Naked skin against naked skin could not quench the fire that had begun burning between them, the touch only fueling their desires for each other further. Steve hummed happily, reaching down to grasp at James’ thigh and wrap it around his hip. Perfectly slotted together, the two men picked up pace, undulating hips in a firm, slow roll as their cocks brushed at long last, hardened lengths gliding against one another in even, firm pressure.

“ _Steve_ ,” James whined. He leaned in, attacking the side of Steve’s throat in eager kisses, clearly unsure of what he should be doing exactly. “Steve, please… mmm, please don’t make me wait anymore!”

Steve groaned, flinching the slightest bit when James’ teeth clipped his skin a little too sharply for comfort. Pulling back, he cupped his cheek, brushing the smooth skin carefully as he tried his best to rein in James’ over-enthusiastic attempts. “C’mon… take a breather for me. Slow down just a bit. I promise we’re gonna get there, alright? I gotta open you up first, though. Remember?”

James nodded, taking the moment to breathe slowly through his nose. He slumped back to the bed, allowing Steve to calm him down. His eyes darted to the side of Steve’s neck where he could see the angry red mark he’d left on the side of his neck, and a pang of regret visibly overtook him. He reached up, touching the mark he’d left behind, his enthusiasm withering just a bit. “No, I’m sorry… I bit too hard,” he said, shaking his head as he squirmed uncomfortably in his spot.

Steve shook his head. Reaching up, he took his hand in his, pulling it from his neck and held it close as he pressed loving kisses to his palm. “Shh,” Steve mumbled, taking the time to christen each finger carefully with his lips. “Don’t do that. It happens, trust me. You got a little too excited, that’s all. Believe me when I say, everyone causes a little damage when they fuck, once in awhile.” Steve turned his gaze back to James, their eyes meeting as he smirked at him. “I should know. First time I had sex with someone, I scratched their back so hard I actually made them bleed, alright? Try being 14 and having to hide from your mom why your neighbor friend can’t sit at the kitchen table when she invited us down for dinner that same night.”

James listened, his eyes widening as Steve recounted that memory to him. After a moment, he burst into slightly uncomfortable laughter, pulling his hand from Steve’s grip to touch the mark again with a small smirk. “Wow… 14 years old…”

“Yeah, I started young,” Steve said, shrugging a little as he pressed a kiss to James’ forehead. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, in the slightest. He just didn’t think it was worth dwelling on when he had more important things to focus on, like making James feel unbelievably good. “But that’s not important. How about this… get on your stomach. I promise I’ll make you feel real good, okay?”

James nodded. Without argument, he turned over to his stomach, pillowing his head on his arm as he looked up at Steve with reverence burning in his eyes. As if testing the waters, he gave his hips a little wiggle, his ass exposed to the cool air as he smiled at him, sheepishly offering his body to Steve then and there.

Steve nodded, fighting back the urge to groan at the sight. His pert, round ass laid out before him like a tribute, only beckoned him and he leaned in, pressing his lips to each cheek. He pecked the smooth skin gently, lingering for a moment before he glanced up to see James watching him, his cheeks flushed dark red as his gaze locked on Steve. “Relax. Lay your head down, or you’re gonna get a cramp,” Steve chuckled. As he spoke, he reached up, parting his cheeks just a bit to expose the furl of his hole to the cool air around them.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand, eyeing up the pucker of his ring needily. He leaned in then, breathing over the twitching muscle in one, slow breath before lapping out, dabbing his tongue against his hole once, twice, a third time before his tongue slid into his body in a smooth glide. Steve was stunned how easily he had entered James’ body, the tense warmth of his walls clinging to his tongue as he lapped hungrily inside him. He tasted just as warm and comforting as he remembered, and he moaned a little, pushing into his channel a little deeper before he withdrew his tongue and lapped over his hole in a slow, wet stripe.

“ _Mmmmggh!_ ” James gasped, going completely lax against the bed. “ _Nnnnn_ -oh God… s’better than I remember.” He whined a little, pushing back against his mouth to seek out more of his touch, his fingers digging into the bedding to hold tightly to his surroundings.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve chuckled. “You sure you didn’t do anything to yourself while I was gone? You shouldn’t open up that quickly to me.” As he spoke, he brushed his index finger along the curl of muscle, massaging it gently before he pushed up into him, his finger breaching his walls slowly as he fingered him open, thrusting slow and even into his body with gentle movements.

James gasped, shaking his head vigorously on the bed. “No! No I didn’t do anything. I dunno why… I thought this might hurt again, but it doesn’t!”

Steve smirked. Pulling back, he pressed a second finger into James’ channel, marveling and how easily he was spreading for him. Well, he had no explanation. After two weeks, he should have been tighter than this, but he wasn’t about to complain. “Well, guess we’ll take it as a blessing then,” he said. With that, he leaned in, lapping at his entrance as he continued to thrust his two fingers into his body, again and again. “Do me a favor though… reach into the drawer next to you and get out a condom and one of those bottles for me would you? I’m enjoying myself too much down here to get it myself.”

James whimpered, though he nodded at Steve’s request. Struggling to focus, what with a tongue and two fingers inside his ass, he turned his attention to the drawer, yanking it open to grab the items in question. Humming at a particularly deep thrust inside him, James dropped the items to the bed before going lax again, boneless as his nerves were tickled just right by the skilled blond above him. “ _Auuunnn_ …. Yes, more. Please!’ he panted, fisting the blanket again in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Steve smirked, pulling back to admire the sweaty, writhing brunet beneath him. “You know, might do you some good to swear a couple times, right? Get out all that tension you’re feelin’ right now.” With a gentle motion, Steve suddenly got to his knees, throwing one leg over James’ hips and straddling his ass carefully. He reached out, grabbing the bottle of lube from where it had fallen to the bed, and cracked the top. Smiling down at his lover, Steve carefully poured a dollop into his palm before tossing the bottle to the bed once again. However, instead of slicking himself up, he reached down parting James’ ass carefully and smearing the fluid across his asscrack, slicking him up just perfectly. “Oh Buck… you’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He purred, Brushing his fingers along his crease, he smeared the lube carefully, getting him nice and wet as he continued to praise him. “I almost forgot how pretty you look down here. It’s the most perfect little hole I’ve ever seen… nice and pink and clean….”

James gasped, writhing back against his fingers as he looked up at him from his spot on the bed. He bit his lip, looking positively disheveled as his hair fell about his face, framing his flushed cheeks just perfectly. “You th-think so?” he asked, sounding adorably timid as he spoke.

Steve smirked. Nodding to him, he pulled his fingers away before looking down. His cock hung heavy between his legs, pressing into James’ left asscheek just the slightest bit, and positively engorged with blood. Sighing in satisfaction, Steve suddenly shifted, slotting his cock in between his cheeks, and letting go so that James’ ass perfectly framed his dick. He didn’t penetrate him, not without a condom, but the feeling of his bare skin sliding against his prick had a shudder of pleasure racing up his spine, sending goose pimples dancing across his skin and a shuddering moan escaping him. “Oh yeah… you’re absolutely perfect. I wasn’t lyin’ when I said that, Bucky.”

Picking up a slow, even pace, Steve thrust against his crease, closing his thighs just slightly to press James’ cheeks together and present more friction. The feeling of wet, sloppy lube easing his way, the heat of the Deacon’s body soaking into his dick, and his own pleasure spiking as he fucked between his cheeks had Steve seeing stars as he held himself up, his sticky hands pressed into James’ shoulders. He knew, technically, this was dangerous. Even this much skin to skin contact could be dangerous for germs of any sort to be passed between them. But he knew he was clean, and frankly if James wasn’t 1000% clean and free of any sort of disease, being as virginal as he still was, then they had a serious problem. Besides, if this much friction felt good to Steve, he could only imagine how James felt at that moment.

Sure enough, the fluid hot motions had soaked into James as well, drawing out a long, loud cry from him at Steve’s touch. He rocked back, feeling for more of that pressure gliding over his entrance, and he looked up at Steve, his eyes flooded with lust and love for him. “ _NNngh_ Stevie! Please, more… oh please, I want to feel it… inside me… don’t make me wait anymore!”

Steve chuckled. Leaning down, he massaged at James’ shoulders one by one, working the tension out of his back as he continued to thrust against his entrance, rocking the two of them on the bed in tandem motion. “Only if you say the magic words,” he teased him, leaning down to brush his lips over his ear in a gentle touch. “Say “yes Stevie, please fuck me… I want your dick inside me’.”

James whimpered, looking up at Steve with uncertainty in his eyes. “I-I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” he said looking slightly uncomfortable at the suggestion. “If it’s all the same to you…”

Steve grinned. He shook his head, pressing a more loving kiss to his cheek before his hips picked up pace a little, the echo of sloppy wet skin gliding against each other filling the room as he rocked faster and more firmly. “Okay, I won’t force you right now… but maybe someday I’ll get you to swear while we’re fuckin’... gotta admit, hearing you beg me to fuck your ass sounds like it’ll be real hot…”

James gasped, pressing his cheek to the bedding. He bucked up when the tip of Steve’s cock brushed over his hole, blindly seeking to be claimed at that exact moment as he whimpered into the quiet room around them. “Steve please!” He gasped, whining a little more petulantly at his teasing. “Don’t make me _wait!_ ”

Oh how could he make him wait when he begged so nicely, looking for all the world like he just might die without his dick in his ass? It just seemed like torture for him and in Steve’s eyes, seeing James even the slightest bit upset just wouldn’t do. “Okay babe, okay… take a breath for me and relax. I’m gonna take care of you.” Pulling back he withdrew his cock from between his cheeks, instantly grabbing for the condom that lay on the bedding. With a skilled hand, he yanked the foil open and withdrew the ring of rubber, rolling it onto his slicked up cock with a fluid motion. Once he had himself fully sheathed and protected, Steve leaned back gripping the brunet’s hips in his hands. He almost considered putting him in a downward dog , but thought better of it. With only one arm, James would have a hard time holding himself up, and he thought it would be incredibly rude to fuck him and push his face into the mattress with every thrust.

So instead, Steve lifted him from the bed, helping james to kneel upright. He took the moment to bless his skin with the faintest of kisses, caressing the expanse of his bare back for a moment before pushing him up to the head of the bed, and planted James’ hand into the wall for support. “Hold onto the wall okay? I’m gonna slick up real quick.”

James nodded, obediently pressing his palm into the wall. He looked back at Steve, watching him as Steve picked up the bottle, and carefully slicked his sheathed cock in lube. Steve felt his eyes on him, boring into his very soul as he waited impatiently for him to finish and claim him again. Steve fought back a moan, the feeling of being watched heightening his senses as he stroked his length to coat it properly. Once he felt he had himself sufficiently lubed up, he looked up at James, offering him a doting smile as he scooted closer. Without missing a beat, he leaned in, tugging him into a kiss as he slotted his cock between his asscheeks and prodded gently at his hole. He carefully maneuvered himself, butting the tip of his dick against that warm entrance, and rutted his hips forward, breaching him with a smooth, gentle slide.

James cried out into the kiss, his teeth clicking with Steve’s as he finally got exactly what he asked for. He moaned into the room, his tongue tangling with Steve’s as he pushed back, rocking himself enough to seat fully on his dick at long last, Within seconds, his loosened walls had enveloped Steve’s cock fully, the two of them hip to ass. “Oh, God… feels so _good_ …” he mumbled, nipping at Steve’s lips every so often. His fingers dug into the wall, nails practically gouging holes into the paint as he held tightly to his sanity. “Stevie… please _move_ … please!”

Steve nodded fighting to keep himself focused. The feeling of James’ walls were tight, despite the fact that they had allowed him entrance so easily. They squeezed his cock just right, stroking him with the perfect amount of pressure and he pressed his lips to James’ shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat and lust between them. He whimpered at the feeling of James’ hips twisting, pulling him in closer, and he bit down, marking his shoulder just a bit as he withdrew, picking up an even pace of fucking him. The slick-slide of lube inside his walls only eased the way, the pressure of their position clamping James’ walls down on his cock just right as he claimed him once again.

In his arms, James went limp. His hand scraped along the wall, his legs trembling visibly as he struggled to hold himself up. He bounced just right on Steve’s cock, looking for all the world like he belonged there singing the praises of pleasure as he was claimed with conviction. He was wordless at that point, mouth a constant _oh_ of delight as his eyes drifted shut. Of course, one particular thrust of Steve’s hips caught him off guard and his hand slipped from the wall. In his mad, mindless scramble James reached up, wrapping his only hand around the back of Steve’s neck to hold himself up his back arching in a perfect ‘c’ as he pushed back, opening right up to Steve’s body where he knelt.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t his curses, but Steve couldn’t help but find how erotic this scene had played itself out. The moment James had latched onto the back of his neck, bowed backwards as he knelt in front of him Steve was stunned that he got to witness this picturesque moment for himself. More beautiful than a Michelangelo painting, James captured and projected the perfection of this very moment between them, his skin alight with the faint glow of his bedside lamp as he begged and pleaded for more. His skin had taken a beautiful flush, coloring him as stunning as he felt and his hair clinged to his sweaty skin just right, completing the image before him.

Steve broke down. Whimpering into the room, he tightened his grip on James’ hips, pulling his hips flush as the two of them made the most beautiful of love he’d ever experienced in his life. Already, his pleasure had spiked impossibly so, heat billowing up his spine and flushing his own skin as he felt his cock twitching inside his channel. His fingertips dug in, bruising James’ hips as he pressed his forehead to the crown of his head, allowing James to blossom like a flower in his presence. His dick had never been stroked so sweetly; not even their last sex had been this artistic. Previously, it had been about exploration. This? This was reconnecting the souls, wiping away the pain of separation, and claiming that they would never be parted again.

“Nnhh… baby!” Steve panted. His cock twitched again, balls drawing up as his orgasm inched imminently closer. “Fuck, m’gonna come… oh God you’re perfect!”

James only whined in return. He tightened his grip on Steve’s neck, fighting the urge to lose his cool as he turned, casting a bleary gaze in his direction. “Then come… I know… you’ll take care of me.”

It was the magic bullet Steve needed. Hearing James’ utter trust in him, the pleasure of his words ebbing into the room only pushed him beyond his control, and he lost his tenuous grip on his body. Steve cried out, slamming his hips forward into James’ body, grinding deeply into him as his orgasm finally ruptured, coursing up his body like a tidal wave until his very limbs pulsed with his pleasure. He filled the condom readily, stunned into silence that he’d come so easily. How magical his lover was to render him helpless like this with only a word.

Oh but James hadn’t come yet! His poor priest… Steve pushed on, humming in delight as he withdrew from his ass, fighting to keep upright even as his strength wanted to give out on him. Focused on his task, Steve grabbed James’ hips and turned him, pushing him down to the bed. Before James could protest what he was doing, Steve descended on him swallowing his cock, bright red and swollen with the need to burst, down to the hilt. Without hesitation, Steve bobbed his head, sucking desperately as he twirled his tongue around the head, stroking him with as much finesse as he could muster.

Above him James cried out, bucking up into Steve’s throat as he sucked him off. He dug his heels into the mattress, his hand darting down to tug on the blond strands desperately. He cried and cried, begging the heavens for release as Steve stroked his cock with hollowed cheeks and an eager thirst.

But Steve wasn’t done yet. As he sucked him off Steve reached down, pressing his middle finger up into his body eagerly. He felt James’ walls clamping down on the digit, drawing him in. It was the perfect position and Steve found his prize easily. As he pulled back, lapping at the tip of his dick with dainty strokes, Steve rubbed his middle finger over the bundle of nerves of his prostate, stroking the gland inside him firm and fast.

James screamed at that pleasurable touch. As Steve stroked his prostate with merciless strokes James bowed off the bed his legs tensing around his head as he bucked up into his throat. Steve almost gagged on the sudden motion, breathing deeply as he bottomed out, the back of his throat caressing the tip of his cock as he continued to milk his prostate for all he was worth. Only one more should do it, he told himself as he pulled back, bobbed his head fast and hard across the tip and descended with a solid suck. As he reached the base of his cock Steve pushed his index finger in beside his middle, rubbing fast vicious circles into his prostate as feverishly as he could, mentally urging James to let go.

It did the trick. That final stroke, his swallowing, gagged motions of sucking him off, sent James tumbling over the edge as he came, long spurts of his come down Steve’s throat. He very nearly spilled over, though Steve quickly lapped up his release, swallowing as eagerly as James gave it to him. James was nearly hoarse as he cried out, his spine rigid as he rode the blissful waves of orgasm for long moments.

It was only when he finally went lax on the bed, did Steve finally back off. He withdrew his fingers from inside him, pulling back off his flagging cock to wipe the spit and dribbles of come that escaped him from his lips. He looked up at James, offering him a loving look as he climbed up the bed, and collapsed next to the exhausted Deacon. Almost instantly, James curled into his front, wrapped tightly around him as the two of them lay together, exhaustion apparent on their features as they cuddled in the throes of afterglow. “I take it you’re not gonna run off on me now,” Steve said, grinning at James.

“No. I said I wasn’t going to, and I don’t intend on it,” James replied, pressing his face into the crook of Steve’s neck as he begged the air to fill his lungs. “My God, Steve… that was-”

“Incredible,” Steve finished. Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, he pressed loving kisses into James’ skin, his palm cupping the stump of his shoulders tenderly. He took a long moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke again, looking up at James with a more serious expression. “Are you okay with what just happened… is having sex with me again going to be something that eats at you later? Really think on it and be honest with me…”

James listened to his question, his expression faltered a little as he realized what Steve was asking him. Sighing to himself he settled into the crook of his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his collarbone. “As a Deacon and in the face of my career, no I’m not okay with it… as a person who cares about you very deeply yes I’m more than okay with what happened. It’s still confusing for me Steve, I’ll admit that. I don’t know still what I should be and shouldn’t be doing… but I’m not taking this back, nor am I going to say it was a mistake. It wasn’t. It’s just going to be a really long road going forward as I figure out how I’m going to balance having you in my life and living through the church.”

“And what if you never find that balance?” Steve asked, carefully.

“Then I never find that balance. Doesn’t mean I’m ever going to take back what we did… nor does that mean I’m going to stop being with you for the time being. I hope that makes sense…”

Steve listened, nodding once. He understood what James meant. Of course, he understood what he meant. It was still going to be a tough road ahead for both of them, but the simple fact that James was willing to let him help in any way he could and still move forward with him… that was all Steve could ask for. He smiled at James, reassuring him with a kiss to his forehead before speaking again. “I understand what you mean Bucky. What I said before… I meant it. I support you in everything you do from now on. I promise you I’m not going anywhere, no matter how long that is.”

James took in his words. His uncertain smile melted away into a comforted grin, and he wrapped himself around Steve’s waist as tightly as he could. A faint shiver coursed up his spine as the cool air finally became apparent and he tucked himself into Steve’s grip as small as he could manage. When Steve carefully pulled the blankets up over the two of them, James sighed in contentment, closing his eyes as he settled in for a long, cozy night with him. “I hope you don’t mind me staying the night… I can leave whenever you want me to.”

“Oh babe,” Steve chuckled, shielding him from the world at large. “I have no problem asking you to stay with me as long as you want. No problem at all…”

 

* * *

 

 

Very minor picture notes as I move on to update my next story. I had a little shameless self-insertion into the story, in the form of Steve's motorcycle. Here's what his motorcycle looks like, if the descriptions weren't clear:

 

This is actually my real-life motorcycle. I got it this summer as a Christmas/birthday gift from my entire family, so i had to proudly insert it into my story!! Ain't she a beauty!?!!?

*clears throat* Okay back to the story! Enjoy and I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY THEYRE BACK TOGETHER!!! Woop woop, everything's golden! 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with the story, even when things looked bleak! Stick around as I update more, and stay tuned for more of Steve and James' relationship adventures versus the church!!! :D


	8. Fear No Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks pass after James and Steve rekindle their budding relationship, and things are going well. Almost too well. Despite their happiness in each other, the worry of what the rest of the world thinks of their secret relationship is strong, and with good reason, it seems, as suspicions of their unconventional friendship grow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances as I post this chapter for you guys* Oh no, the plot is thickening!! The stress is real! These stupid boys are so madly in love! Why can't the world just accept that?!!?!?!
> 
> I won't spare too many notes for this chapter, though I wanted to quickly say that for anyone who is actually a ballet dancer here, I'm so sorry if I butchered the technical stuff in that dance style! James shows Steve some ballet moves, and it's been two decades since I took remedial ballet lessons, so I'm VERY rusty. Do forgive me if I messed anything up! (self-beta'd in this chapter as well, so hopefully I didn't miss anything important!)
> 
> ANYWAY, GET TO READING YOU WILEY KIDS YOU! ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!!!

The sound of the club’s heavy bass thrummed in the air around him, reverberating in his chest and sending pleasurable little tingles up and down his spine. The sensation was infectious, brightening the smirk on his lips as he watched the other patrons of the club dancing and drinking to their hearts’ content. It was nice to watch people let go, uninhibited and carefree as they lived their lives in the throng of parties, booze and good times to remember (or not remember, Steve thought fondly as he watched a young woman drunkenly plaster kisses all over another girl sitting a ways down the bar from him). As he sat himself down on the barstool, the DJ for the night changed the song, that same heavy bass picking up speed and vibrating down to his very core to tickle the remnants of a post-orgasm high still lingering in his belly. Steve couldn’t help the shiver that overtook him; it wasn’t surprising at all that he could feel the dregs of his pleasure spiking just a little bit to the beat of the music. He had always been extra sensitive after servicing a client.

He had just reached into his pocket to grab for the fold of money he’d earned to give it a quick count, when he felt an arm snake around his waist from behind. The arm was pale, thin, and decked out in thick bangles of gaudy-looking bracelets. The long fingernails on the hand that had left quite a few lasting scratches along his back, were painted a deep sangria purple, and stuck out in a sharp contrast against his white t-shirt as she raked them over his chest in temptation. Before he could say anything, a pair of lips still coated in that waxy slick of lipstick he remembered tasting, found the bruise she’d left on his neck just minutes ago and gave the sensitive spot a sharp nip before her tongue darted out to lap over the mark. Steve shivered a little at the touch, and he turned to see the blonde giving him a predatory grin as she lined herself up right along his back. “What’s that look for?” Steve asked, leaning his elbow against the bar to watch her.

The girl (Lorraine, he remembered by the skin of his teeth. They’d barely gotten the pleasantries out of the way before she slipped him a fifty and dragged him back to one of the private rooms of Stark’s club) simply raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him before biting her lip. “Nothing, really. Just taking a minute to admire the handiwork. You know, when someone gave me your number I didn’t think I’d be walking into that good of a fuck, honey.”

Steve smirked, picking up the whisky Natasha had slipped him without a word, and gave the drink a careful sip. “I can see your heels are still in your hand. Don’t trust yourself to walk in them just yet?” he asked, layering a smug tone over his words. When Lorraine only blushed in response, he chuckled and tipped his glass at her. “Consider it a gift for the lovely little advance you gave me.”

“Well how about saving the post-orgasm walk home for me, and letting me get an encore from you?” she asked. As she spoke, she let her hand trail down the side of his hip, before her painted fingernails brushed against his cock. “There’s plenty more cash where that came from.”

Steve watched her, feeling her fingers trace over his dick through the thick layer of his jeans. His cock gave a half interested twitch for a moment, before his mind wandered from her presence and back to the brunet waiting for him at his house. The thought of James, probably working diligently on some paper for his classes with a drink poured and waiting for him when he got there, had the tingle in his groin deflating instantly. Normally, he _would_ have taken up the offer of a second round, if cash was involved, but not this time. Not when he had something even better waiting for him. “Sorry to say, but I’m all outta condoms, darlin’,” he said, carefully pulling her hand from his lap and giving her wrist a squeeze. “You got my number though. You ever wanna have another go, just give me a buzz and we’ll settle up, alright?”

“We don’t need condoms,” Lorraine said insistently as she tried to lure Steve into complying. She sidled up to him and leaned in to catch the swell of his lower lip between her teeth, instigating a kiss Steve didn’t ask for. “I promise, I’m _well_ protected.”

Well, that was a turn-off if he ever heard one. Steve had few rules when it came to his job; he was willing to try anything as long as it made the client happy. But when it came to consent, he had two very firm principles he never broke: he didn’t like it when clients pushed him for more when he clearly said no, and he didn’t fuck them without condoms. Unfortunately for her, Lorraine had broken both those rules in the span of two seconds; like hell was Steve going to give her what she wanted now. Shaking his head, Steve broke the kiss instantly and pushed her away, his smile fading into a stern expression. “I _said,_ I’m off the clock. Have a good night, Lauren. I’m sure your friends are looking for you.”

Lorraine’s expression hardened and she offered up a pout at him. “It’s Lorraine,” she said, crossing her arms over her bosom.

Steve smirked, watching her interest in him fade like a flickering match in a gale. “Sorry,” he said tipping an imaginary hat to her. “Musta slipped my mind.”

Lorraine simply huffed in response, turning on her heel and marching off into the club without another word. Honestly, Steve didn’t know if she’d call him back after that, but he didn’t care. If she was going to act like a spoiled brat just because he wouldn’t screw her a second time, then he didn’t want her as a regular. Simple as that. Besides, it was hard to feel bad about watching her go, when he had his darling James to look forward to that night.

“Ooooh, cold as ice,” Natasha’s voice cut in, making him look away from where Lorraine had disappeared into the crowd. He saw the red-head giving him a sly smirk as she topped off his drink before pushing it back to him. “You damn well know you have more condoms. Why’d you give her the snub?”

Steve shrugged, taking a swig of whisky and letting the burn tickle his throat. “I hate it when clients try to push. I don’t care if she’s on birth control, _or_ clean. I said no and she didn’t get the hint. It’s no skin off my nose if she never calls me again.”

“Well at least you have your convictions,” Natasha said, resting her elbows on the bar-top. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight? Waiting for another client to show up, or are you heading out to work 18th Ave. again?”

Steve shrugged, his smile returning to him at the prospect of getting to leave and see James. Funny, how the highlight of his night used to be going out, instead of heading home… “Nah, actually I’m done for the night. Gotta go home and take a shower.”

Natasha nodded, though it was slow. She raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze skeptical. “Going to see someone special?”

Well, that question was definitely out of left field. For a split second, he actually felt his heart-rate skyrocket at the question, as if she’d cornered him and asked him how many times he blew James the night before (three times. Three glorious blow-jobs until James was wrung dry and draped over him like Raggedy Anne). It took an embarrassingly long time before Steve could jumpstart his brain into giving her a reasonable answer, but finally he took a breath and plastered on his best poker face. “No? I’m tired and want to take a shower. Is it surprising that I don’t feel like going to bed smelling like sex?”

“Never bothered you before,” Natasha said, straightening up. “I seem to recall you coming in a few times in a row with lipstick marks on your collar. So why the sudden interest in hygiene?” As she spoke, the clang of a metal bin against the counter echoed in the air, causing the two to look up. There, Tony stood a few scant feet away, dumping scoops of ice into the bin to take to the private bar in the back. He seemed totally uninterested in what was going on around him, only looking up when he’d filled the bin to see Natasha and Steve looking at him.

“Hey,” Tony said, waving to Steve before he gestured to the hickey forming on his throat. “How goes the Dickening? You know you really gotta pick your clients carefully. It’s no fun listening to music when all we can hear is you and some random piece pulling some saucy Venerean mirth right under our noses. It seriously sounds like you’re performing an exorcism every time your customers moan out the Good Lord’s name. Hope you’re at least gettin’ paid well.”

“Yep,” Steve said, getting to his feet and sliding some money for the whiskey across the counter. “But you don’t have to worry about me disturbing your patrons the rest of the night. I’m gonna turn in, so you all can have some peace and quiet. Well… as much as you’re gonna get in here.” Okay, sure, he was evading Natasha’s questioning, he knew it. But if he had a distraction at his disposal, and a chance to escape her inquisitive gaze, then by God was he going to take it. “Hate to run, but I gotta go, guys. Have a good rest of your night.”

Tony grunted in response, waving Steve off as his gaze lingered on him. “Gettin’ old, I see. Weren’t you the guy that used to stay out until five in the morning, bonin’ every tail that walked in here for cash?”

“Nah, just satisfied with the income now,” Steve said, growing tired of the circular conversation. At his left, he could feel Natasha’s gaze on him, trying to whittle away at his willpower, and he squared his shoulders. _Dammit_ , couldn’t they just let a guy leave so he could clean up from work and go see his secret boyfriend in peace?

“Whatever you say, Steve. Go recharge your dick for the next fuck-fest. Have a good night, and try not to break a hip while you’re at it,” Tony said, dismissing him with a wave before hoisting his ice bin and taking it to the back of the bar without another word.

Steve sighed, finally relaxing as he escaped the bar to make his exit. However, he only made it a couple steps before Natasha called for him again, and he fought back a groan. Jesus Christ, _what_ did she want…?

“Steve,” Natasha said more forcefully this time. As he turned back to her, she faced him with her best glare, her hands resting on her hips. Shit… Steve _hated_ that glare; it was almost enough to make him crumble under her gaze and spill his guts. She _really_ had it made if she decided to pursue a career as a spy, if you asked him... “You’ve been acting weird the past couple weeks. You never stay out late anymore, and you cap off at one, maybe two clients a night now. So what’s going on?”

“ _Nothing_ , Nat,” Steve sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. At this rate, he was definitely going to be late getting to James’ house that night. “Nothing at all. I promise. Maybe Tony’s right. Maybe I am just getting too old for this. I’m really just tired, I swear.”

Natasha didn’t reply right away. Her gaze was piercing, lips pursed as if she was trying her hardest to decipher what he really meant. A long moment passed, the two of them leveling each other with challenging looks and daring the other to back down first, before she finally gave in and pushed her hair back. “Okay, fine. Just, whatever it is you’re up to, don’t get yourself or _anyone else_ in trouble… you got me?”

Steve listened, not liking her answer one bit. It was the statement of someone who definitely knew more than she was letting on, but wasn’t willing to give away her wild card yet. Still, an out was an out and he wasn’t about to waste any more time that night. The last thing he needed was to worry James needlessly. He’d always made a habit of checking in with him after a client, just so James could make sure he didn’t run into anymore asshats trying to get the beat-down on him again. He was at _least_ twenty minutes late in even sending him a text message that everything was in the clear… “I swear, nothing’s going on, alright?” he said waving his hand at her. “Just trust me.”

Natasha didn’t answer him. Instead, she waved him off, seemingly done trying to translate his cryptic words and turned away to serve another customer at the other end of the bar. With that the conversation was over, and the sounds of the music’s deep bass and pulsing beats rattled the interior of the club again, seemingly overtaking the moment like a scene fade in a cheesy television drama. Steve sighed, making his escape as quickly as possible. He kept his eyes forward, avoiding eye contact with that Lorraine chick from earlier as he slipped out of the club and into the warm night to make the brief walk straight into the embrace of the only man that really mattered.

First things first: shower and get that woman’s perfume off of his skin. Second: make the trek to James’ brownstone as quickly as possible. Third: pin him to the nearest flat surface and let the Deacon wipe away any marks Lorraine might have left on his skin by plastering his own love bites over the offending bruises. And finally: look forward to falling asleep with him tucked into his arms just like he liked it, and fantasize about exactly which sugary, pancake monstrosity they would make together the following morning. That, Steve thought to himself with a satisfied grin, sounded like a solid plan and he looked forward to every second of it

Already, Steve felt a hell of a lot better about the sour ending to his first (and last) encounter with that woman. Honestly, it was _always_ easy to forget about all of his pushy clients and overbearing friends when he had James’ affections to obsess over.

A _lot_ of shit had gotten easier in his life, since he’d let himself fall in love for the first time…

* * *

“Are you sure we’re not gonna get in trouble?” Steve’s voice came, sounding the slightest bit apprehensive. Above them, the doorbell jangled loudly, echoing into the empty studio as Bucky lead the way, automatically flipping on the lights in the back as his fingers blindly navigated the fuse box set into the small building’s brick wall.

James smirked, glancing back at Steve as he grabbed his hand to drag him to the back of the studio. He felt a little thrill in the pit of his stomach as he walked, though it wasn’t for breaking into the dance studio after hours. He could hardly call it breaking-and-entering when he had a key, now could he? No, he felt that thrill of excitement simply because he was getting a chance to show Steve what he did for fun for the first time, without the cramped space of his kitchen limiting his range of motion. It was a purely innocent sort of excitement, he told himself.

“No we’re not gonna get in trouble,” James reassured him, casting a wink over his shoulder. “C’mon. I thought you wanted to see what it is I do for fun.”

“I do,” Steve said, following him into the lit studio. His eyes cast over the room, catching sight of the full floor to ceiling mirror on one side, and the simple wooden barre fastened into the opposite wall. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble with your instructors and have you lose your sneaking privileges, you know?”

“Don’t worry,” James said, tossing his jacket and bag onto the floor. He dropped down to his knees, unzipping the bag one handed as he fished out his ballet slippers. With a careful hand, he quickly rolled up the bottoms of his black pants, letting the elastic hold itself up as he quietly slipped one onto his right foot and tied off the knot with ease. He remembered having to tie the slipper the first time with only one hand, and he shook his head fondly as he watched his fingers mechanically work before he grabbed the second slipper. “Take off your shoes and socks. You’ll have to do this bare foot so you don’t slip.”

Steve did as he was told, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket. His sweat pants, comically emblazoned with “Patrón” down the right leg, stood out in bright green against the backdrop of the wooden walls behind him, and he tossed his socks into the folds of the red coat he’d unintentionally stolen from James. Despite the stuffy air of the studio (the dance academy hadn’t turned on the air conditioners yet, despite the surprisingly warm May weather they were experiencing), he looked totally at ease, crossing his arms over his t-shirt bedecked chest. “How much of this are you gonna actually show me? Like you’re not gonna start throwing out a bunch of technical French terms are you, ‘cause I’m gonna get real confused real quick.”

James chuckled, before rising gracefully to his feet. “No, I won’t use all the terms. I’ll just show you and you can mirror me, alright?” When Steve nodded, looking less apprehensive now that James had assured him he would take it easy on him, James beamed. As he led Steve over to the barre on the wall, he took a moment to tuck the empty sleeve of his t-shirt in to keep it from flapping around, before turning to face him. “I think we’ll stick with the barre for now. That’ll give you a good enough work out.”

“Work out?” Steve said, grinning at him. He clapped his hand on the barre before giving James a challenging look. “I looked up some of those YouTube videos when you told me you wanted to take me to the studio. The bar stuff looked pretty easy.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” James said, his eyes flashing a little as he gave Steve an appraising once-over. “Alright, so you’re just gonna mirror what I do, but first let’s get you centered.” With that, James stepped up to Steve’s side, and grabbed his wrist. “Alright, put your hand on the barre, keep your grip loose and your elbow slightly curved,” he said, placing Steve’s hand on the wood in the correct spot while he spoke. When he was satisfied with the placement, he looked up at his boyfriend and nodded. “Just like that. Now, look down at your feet, and I want you to put them in first position. Heels together, toes splayed out.”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Turning his feet out and pushing his heels together, he kept his hand placed exactly where James had put it, his right hand dangling loose at his side. “Okay. Now what?”

James tisked, thoroughly relishing the moment. He reached out with his toe and nudged Steve’s feet, deepening the angle of the position until he saw Steve’s grip tighten on the barre to keep his balance. “Further… further. Okay, there. Now, keep your shoulders down, raise your head so your ears are in line with your shoulders, and keep your back straight. We’re gonna do Plies first to loosen up your thighs.”

Steve nodded, though his earlier smug smile had faded just a little bit as he tried to keep the position. When James reached out and grabbed his chin, pushing his head further back to align his spine, he made a noise in the back of his throat as he rocked on his heels slightly. “Whoa… this is not comfortable,” he chuckled, shooting James a side-eyed look.

“Don’t stick your butt out,” James said, ignoring his statement. He reached down, placing his hand on the small of his back to push his hips forward, and he heard the wood groan against the fastenings of the wall as Steve tightened his grip even further. Now, the blond was really wobbling as he held the position on uncomfortable stature, but James stepped back, and took a moment to assess the position. “There. Now you’re centered.”

“Jesus,” Steve said, his eyes wide as he looked at James. “I feel like I’m bent backwards.”

“That’s because your posture is in the correct position,” James replied with no little amount of pride. He normally didn’t feel this confident showing anyone what he enjoyed doing, but seeing Steve’s eyes light up with a new sense of admiration had a warm tingle forming in the pit of his stomach. With that, James moved to stand in front of Steve, his right hand going to the barre as he snapped into position automatically. “Alright. Now we’re gonna put your right arm in first position.”

“There’s more?” Steve said, whistling low.

“Yep. I want you to bring your right hand in front of your hips,” James said, letting go of the bar enough to show Steve the exact position of the curvature of his arm. “Let your elbow stay loose, so your arm curves almost a half-oval shape and keep your fingers together. Not tight, let your hand curl naturally. And keep your left hand loose on the barre!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. He did the best he could to mimic the position, and James nodded. It was close enough; he knew the swell of Steve’s bicep and shoulder muscles would cause him a problem, especially in the foreign position, so he let the slight angle of his elbow slide for now.

“Alright. We’re gonna do a Plie exercise. I want you to bend your knees, as if you’re going to do a squat, but keep your heels together. You won’t get very low without your heels coming up and that’s okay. We’ll do a Grand Plie after that.” With that, James showed him exactly what he wanted, bending his knees, before coming back up. When Steve copied the motion with the most accuracy he could manage, still wobbling on his heels, James flashed him a smile and nodded. “Good. Now do it again, but this time, when you straighten up, point your right foot out straight to the side, and then tap your toe on the floor before coming back to first position.”

“That’s the heels together, right?” Steve said. When James nodded, Steve did as he was told, dropping down into a half squat before straightening up. He kicked his leg out to the side, tapped his toe, and went back to position before giving James an inquisitive look. “Like that?”

“Sure… if you want to look like you’re swinging at a soccer ball,” James said, cheekily. When Steve scoffed at him, James giggled before executing the move, his motions fluid and smooth before nodding up at him. “This is ballet, not rugby. You’re not trying to kick someone’s knees out.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Steve snorted. “What else you got for me, ace?”

James heard the challenge in his voice, and a curl of a rare competitive streak coiled up his spine. _Oh_ , he would show him alright; if the grin on Steve’s face was anything to go by, he was definitely enjoying goading the brunet on. James had _no_ problem delivering on that. Without a word, his hand went back to the barre, and he slid his foot forward into third position, before he suddenly swung his leg up. As straight as an arrow, his leg lifted, the curve of his toe brushing past Steve’s cheek for a split second. Steve yelped, ducking his head from the incoming foot, though the motion was so quick he might as well have been laid out flat on the floor from the kick if James hadn’t been so precise. James simply smiled as he dropped his leg back into third and batted his eyes at him. “Alright, you asked for it. Try to keep up, punk.”

That was how James found himself running through his entire warm up routine with Steve, the two of them working in tandem to the lilting tones of music playing from James’ phone. Through Plie, to Passé, to Soutenu, James guided Steve through the motions, pausing his own exercises to correct Steve’s posture frequently and help him get into proper position. Every so often, he’d take a moment to run his hand along his legs and arms, curving and straightening and positioning until he was satisfied that Steve was finally getting it.

By the time they got to the Arabesque and the Rond de Jambe, Steve was panting for breath, his usually put together appearance looking tired from balancing and moving in ways his body had never done before. They even got a few jumps in, a few Sauté and Temp Jete leaps, before Steve’s temples were shiny with sweat. But still, the blond pushed himself to keep up with James, much to the Deacon’s absolute delight. He loved seeing how much Steve was trying his best to keep up with him, and that competitive curl in his spine melted away into fond adoration to see his boyfriend trying so hard to experience and share in what he loved.

An hour later, James had decided to end their work out with a few barre stretches, to keep Steve’s tired muscles loose from the abuse he’d put them through. They were currently stretching their hamstrings, one heel up on the barre each, though the position for each man was drastically different.

James hadn’t looked up at Steve for a few moments, too busy as he bent, spine straight as he stretched out his torso over his extended leg. He loved feeling the burn in his thighs and glutes, and he sighed in content as he rested his cheek on his locked knee, pushing his supporting leg straight as he deepened the stretch. It was only when he heard a groan from Steve, that James looked up to see the other, his legs bent comically as he tried to keep his heel up on the barre and reach for his extended toes in a failed stretch.

“Nope,” Steve gasped, shaking his head as he finally dropped his leg from the bar and straightened up. “Nope. Can’t do it. Fuck, I am _definitely_ gonna be feeling this shit tomorrow.” Looking up at James, Steve gaped at the stretch he was in, eyeing up the rock steady posture and straight lines of his thighs as he lounged almost lazily with his leg up on the barre. “That’s not fricken right, no one should be that limber! How are you even moving after that workout?”

James giggled, dropping his leg to the floor. He fought the habit to let his leg slide effortlessly into fifth position to complete the stretch, and he leaned his elbow into the barre as he watched Steve all but collapse to the floor to stretch out on his back. “I told you it was a work-out. And I didn’t even get to teach you any of the actual ballet moves.”

“ _Hell_ no. You aren’t turning me into a pretzel tonight,” Steve said, shaking his head as he stared at the ceiling above him in exhaustion. “Jesus Christ… you and I are definitely trying some new, exciting positions in bed if you’re this fuckin’ flexible. I feel like I’m 90 years old right now.”

James cooed, shaking his head as he dropped down to the floor. With a careful grace, he threw his leg over Steve’s, straddling his lap as he beamed happily at his lover. A few weeks ago, he could never have imagined himself doing something so bold as to straddle another man’s waist. Now it just felt natural as he sat back, not so secretly enjoying the feeling of Steve’s flaccid cock pressing into his backside. Sure, he was still learning new things about his discovered sexuality, and the idea of doing any of this with anyone else on the planet scared the willies out of him. But with Steve, it felt as if he’d been born to find this blond and learn to make love to him. There was _no way_ he would ever break that sanctity by allowing himself to remain shy in his embrace. “I am all for trying new positions with you. If you want, that can be your reward for putting up with my nonsense. Got any new ideas?”

Steve looked away from the ceiling, giving James a fond, loving look before he reached out to rub his palms over his thighs. “Well, we’ve been seeing each other almost every day, and I think we’ve exhausted some of the standard positions already.” As he spoke, Steve sat up, leaning in to press a kiss to James’ lips before dropping down to his back again. “So I think our next sexploration should include the Praying Camel.”

“Praying Camel?” James asked, raising a brow. “What’s that?”

“I have no idea, I just made it up. But I’m picturing it now, and it involves you on your back with both your heels tucked behind your ears while I eat you out,” Steve said, waggling a brow at him. “But in all seriousness, I can totally pull up a digital Kama Sutra on that massive wide-screen you got back at your place and we can make a night of it. Which, by the way, I’m still wigged out that you got yourself such a nice TV.”

“Why is that such a weird thing?” James asked. As he did, he leaned down, allowing his chest to press into Steve’s as he brushed the tip of his nose over his. The faint tickle of that innocent touch had them both shivering where they lay, and James’ smile melted into something a little more sated.

“I dunno. For someone who is supposed to live off the goods the Almighty blesses you with, it seems pretty hedonistic to me that you’d go and splurge on something like that,” Steve said. He spoke in low tones, darting the tip of his tongue out to catch along the ridge of James’ lower lip as he cupped his backside lovingly.

“Well,” James said. He rocked his hips, pushing the mounds of his backside into Steve’s palms. He let loose a faint shudder when he felt Steve brush his hands over his bottom, kneading the flesh through his elastic pants before pushing his fingertips underneath to pinch the bare skin there. “Here’s the thing about that: I really love Law and Order. And I really… _really_ want you to show me the Kama Sutra on my television…”

Steve grinned, his eyes honing in like blue missiles on James. He felt a shudder of delight at that wanting look, and James couldn’t fight back the giggle as he felt Steve’s hands moving over his body, caressing down his back before delving beneath the hem of his black pants again. The feeling of his cool hands against his backside had James sighing in content, rocking his hips back against his palms as he leaned in to kiss a line of butterfly touches up the side of Steve’s neck. He’d definitely gotten better at kissing if he did say so himself, and if the sight of Steve going pliant beneath him was anything to go by, Steve agreed wholeheartedly.

James hummed through his nose, letting his tongue dart out against the warm column of his throat. He found a mark left behind by one of Steve’s clients the night before and he made great work of covering up the hickey with a love bite of his own. “What? Not gonna say anything?” James asked, pulling back to admire his handiwork. There… that ought to tell all of Steve’s clients exactly how good James Barnes was at leaving his mark behind. Dignity be damned, he wanted to make sure Steve’s next customer saw it and spent his or her hour with him wondering where it came from, and he was going to be prideful of that, yes sir.

Steve groaned, digging his fingertips into James’ backside a little bit as he struggled to open his eyes once more. By the time he could manage that feat, his cheeks were flushed from the attention James had given him, and he flashed him a wicked smirk. “I’m just thinking about all those fun little positions I get to try out with you now. You know how hard it is to get people to try something new?”

“Mmm, tell me about them,” James sighed. He could feel the bite of Steve’s nails digging into his backside, and a shudder raced up his spine, warming him to his very core.

Steve chuckled, raking his fingernails over his skin. As he did, he let his index finger find the top of his crease, brushing along the cleft of his ass for a moment before pushing between to glide along the sensitive skin within. James jolted at the bold move, choking on a little whine as he felt Steve’s finger brush over his hole, barely hard enough to penetrate him. “Well, Pair of Tongs is definitely out of the question, sorry to say. But I’d love to see you in the Lotus. Or the Tigress… I love seeing your back arching when we fuck. It’s probably the sexiest thing in the whole damn world.”

James shuddered again, his eyes drifting shut as he rocked his hips back. Steve’s fingers never stopped their gentle caresses, the tip of that sinful digit pushing against resistance before breaching his walls. It was such a tease, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. And to think, they were doing this in a _public dance studio_. Now that was a kind of thrill he didn’t know he needed in his life. “Tigress huh? Sounds dangerous… and kinda sexy,” he panted, tearing his eyes open to look down at Steve with hunger burning in his eyes. “What else you got?”

“Depends on how daring you wanna get,” Steve purred. He continued to stroke his finger against that resistance, pushing just a little deeper inside before he pulled his left hand free to tug at the hem of James’ shirt. When he got it hiked up his chest, he let his nail graze over an erect nipple before pinching it between his fingers. “If you wanna get dangerous, we could always try the Triple Lindy, and dangle you over the floor. Or we can test out those flexible hips of yours and Split the Bamboo.”

James whimpered, though he couldn’t help but laugh as Steve spoke. “How do you know so much about these positions? Are you sure you’re not making these up?” he asked. His laugh died a moment later, when Steve twisted his finger, pushing inside him up to the second knuckle, and the shiver that coursed through his body had him nearly collapsing against his chest. “Oh God…”

“Take it easy, darling,” Steve whispered, though he didn’t stop thrusting that damn finger inside him. Instead, he leaned up, biting at James’ earlobe and tugging hard enough to bruise the flesh there. He added fuel to the fire, rocking his hips up to grind against him, and James was proud to feel the absolute raging hard-on he had, pushing firmly against his own erection. “Don’t think you wanna lose it when anyone could walk in on us, right? Unless you _wanna_ fuck me right here… is that what you want, Father? Wanna use those awesome mirrors and watch us make a mess in here, hmm? C’mon, lemme hear that pretty voice of yours…”

“Steve,” James gasped, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. His own fingers were now tangled in the cloth of Steve’s left sleeve, holding tightly as he rocked back and forth, grinding down desperately for more friction. He turned his head, pressing his cheek to his chest and opened his eyes. Sure enough, they were in clear shot of the mirror, and he found himself entranced at the sight of their reflections; his own self splayed across Steve’s chest, and Steve’s hand shoved down the back of his pants as he fingered him right there. Their hips undulated openly, deep rolls against each other and James couldn’t hold back the whine that left him. God, yes, _yes_ he wanted Steve inside him right then and there. “Oh God… b-but… but we don’t have lube…” he started to say.

Steve smirked. “I can open you up real good with my tongue,” he offered. Reaching up, he cupped James’ cheek in his hand and turned him to meet, the two eye to eye. “Or we can get you a plug, and that’ll keep you nice and loose whenever we want. I know some really good brands that feel great.”

James hesitated, fighting the toe-curling pleasure long enough to really comprehend what he was saying. After a moment, his sluggish mind caught up with his libido, and he bit his lip, flushing dark red at the idea of buying an anal plug. “R-really?” he asked, meekly. Okay, maybe he’d crawled back into his shyness shell a little bit, he had to admit. But he _really_ couldn’t picture himself walking into a sex shop… not yet, at least. “W-what… and you just wear them all the time?”

Steve grinned, crooking his finger a little. The shock of pleasure it caused as the digit stroked just slightly over James’ prostate had the Deacon going limp in his arms again, his eyes practically crossing as he struggled to listen to Steve’s response. “Only if you want to. And don’t worry… if you want a plug, I’ll get you one. I’ll make sure it feels real good. We can play with it first before you wear it anywhere. I promise, I’ll make it good for you…”

“Y-you always do,” James croaked, pressing his forehead into Steve’s. He was losing the battle against his own body, and he shuddered once again, balancing precariously on the brink of control. “God, Steve… f-feels good…”

Steve didn’t answer him. He simply leaned in, pressing his lips to his throat as he brushed the tip of his middle finger over the stretch of James’ entrance, teasing to press inside next. The music continued to play on James’ phone, filling the studio with lyrical notes of purity, contrasting the not-so-innocent scene unfolding right there in the open room. James whined, leaning up to allow Steve’s lips the access of his throat they wanted so badly, ready to give himself over right then and there.

But then the music stopped. Out of nowhere, the song playing in the background cut out, replaced with the blaring squawk of James’ alarm clock echoing in the studio around them. The sound was so loud and so sudden, both men jumped nearly a foot in the air, breaking apart like they’d been caught red-handed. James yelped, scrambling over to his phone and cursing mentally as he grabbed it from his bag and slammed his thumb down on the snooze button. “Dammit!” he growled, glaring down at his phone for savagely interrupting their fondling so rudely.

Then it occurred to him exactly _why_ his phone alarm had gone off at such an inopportune moment, and all the color drained from his face.

“Shhhh-oot!” he squeaked, shoving his phone into his pocket as he scrambled to rip the zipper of his bag open. “I have a class in ten minutes!”

“A class?” Steve said, looking just as flustered as James felt. He’d gotten back to his feet, ignoring the still prominent erection tenting his sweat pants and trotted over to James’ side to help him yank those ballet slippers off of his feet. “Since when do you have class on a Thursday night?”

“Since the seminary decided to screw with all of our schedules and assign a new teacher this quarter,” James growled, looking quite put out as he wrestled his socks on and grabbed for his shoes. He was halfway through lacing his left shoe, when he groaned, slapping his hand over his forehead. “Crap! All my books are at home, my prosthesis-!”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve said, grabbing at his arm. He gave it a little shake to get James to look at him, and leveled him with a commanding gaze. “Listen to me. Freaking out isn’t gonna help. What happens if you just skip it for the night and no-show?”

“I can’t. Participation is a big part of the grade,” James said, feeling stupid. Of course, he’d _had_ to pick this day to forget all about his first night-class. At least his erection had gone down in the midst of his distress…

“Okay, well then you’re gonna be late. That’s all there is to it. You’re not gonna kill yourself trying to get back home and all the way to the seminary in ten minutes. That’s suicide, especially at this time of night,” Steve said, his voice layered with finality. Grabbing the red jacket and James’ dance bag, he hoisted the two of them to their feet before tugging him for the door. “C’mon, I’ll drive you.”

James didn’t have time to be grateful for the generous offer. Before he could even react, he found his arm in a tight grip as Steve tugged him along, the two of them vacating the room with purpose. James had just enough time to shut down the lights of the studio and lock up before they both darted across the street to Steve’s waiting car, and climbed in. As much as James knew Steve was right, he couldn’t help but sit anxiously in his seat, watching the traffic pass them by as they headed back to his place to grab his things and head to the seminary.

James didn’t give himself time to prepare. The first thing he did when they arrived at his house was rush in and grab his prosthetic and book bag, before slamming back out of the house and jumping back into Steve’s waiting car. He tried his best to wrestle the prosthetic on his shoulder as Steve drove, navigating traffic with accuracy. After a few minutes, James gave up, glaring at his prosthetic and really despising himself for his disability before letting the arm fall to his lap. But just as he turned to stare out the window ruefully, he felt a hand on his thigh, and he looked up to see Steve giving him a reassuring look. It wasn’t much, he had to admit. But it was just enough to calm his irritation down, and James offered up a small smile and a nod to his boyfriend, thanking him silently for his support.

By the time they got to the seminary, James had decided just to tuck the prosthetic under the sleeve of his t-shirt and strap the device on over it. The straps would pull and bunch up his t-shirt uncomfortably, but he could at least hide the unsightly mess under his sweatshirt during class. Hopefully no one would question him on his attire when they saw him come in basically wearing what amounted to pajama pants and an old, baggy sweatshirt…

Steve parked the car, jumping out to grab James’ book bag from the backseat. Neither of them spoke, working like a well-oiled machine as Steve took the sweatshirt in James’ lap, and James climbed out to wrestle the prosthetic on. By the time James got his prosthetic settled and had slipped on his sweatshirt and trusty left glove to hide the contraption, the two of them had arrived in the building, heading down the corridor to his class. It should have been a seamless venture. The halls were totally vacant and Steve could have easily passed off the bag to James without anyone seeing them.

James just had the unfortunate knack for being the unluckiest person in the world, it seemed.

Just as they both rounded the corner for James to take the last twenty foot sprint down the hallway toward the classroom, they both found themselves face-to-face with James’ mentor, Father Greg. For a moment, no one spoke, as James and Father Greg locked gazes. At his right, James sensed Steve freeze in his spot, looking altogether caught as if they were still back at the studio, and James felt the blood drain from his face. This was it. The moment their relationship would be found out, he just knew it…!

“James?” Father Greg said, looking wholly surprised. “What are you doing out here, you have a class. It started twenty minutes ago.”

James blanched, his throat drying up so quickly he could barely swallow. He could feel his heart hammering wildly in his chest, and his fingertips tingled viciously as he struggled to find the words to speak. “F-Father Greg! I-I… I was… this isn’t-”

“Who’s this?” Father Greg asked, turning his gaze on Steve. For a second, James thought he would faint the second he realized his mentor’s attention had diverted from him. Steve hadn’t had a chance to really put himself together after they left the dance studio. He’d barely even had a chance to zip up the red jacket he was wearing. And now, Father Greg had sole attention on his boyfriend, who looked quite uncomfortable with a big, fat hickey sticking out from underneath the collar of his t-shirt.

But just when it seemed that James’ life would end then and there (and really, it was kind of strange to feel his adrenaline start to drop as he realized he wouldn’t have to keep up with his lie anymore… world-shattering consequences and all that aside), Steve suddenly cleared his throat, plastering on a bright smile as he extended his hand to the priest in greeting.

“Hey! I’m so, _so_ sorry for bringing James back late, it’s totally my fault,’ Steve said, shaking Father Greg’s hand warmly. “I’m a new student at James’ dance studio, and I asked him if he could give me a few pointers after hours. My girlfriend really wanted me to pick up dancing so she and I could go out together, but I was struggling in my classes. James was nice enough to step in and offer to give me some extra tutoring. I guess I didn’t realize tonight was one of his class nights for the seminary. Please don’t mark James in trouble for anything, it was my fault I distracted him from his schedule.”

Holy Mother of Jesus, James could have _kissed_ Steve right then and there.

Father Greg listened to Steve’s explanation, before turning to offer James a surprised look. “I didn’t know you were taking students at the dance studio. Is James one of your student teachers, Mr.-”

“Rogers. Steve,” Steve said, shaking his head. “No, just a really nice, caring guy that saw me struggling and wanted to offer me some help. When we both realized he was going to be late for his class, I offered to make up for the mistake and help carry his stuff for him while he got… well situated,” Steve said, beaming down at his boyfriend. James felt his cheeks flushing dark red at the look, and he ducked his head to keep himself from blushing.

“Oh I see,” Father Greg said. He offered James a bright smile before shaking his head. “Not to worry, James has never been late to a class since he started coming here. His attendance is always impeccable. I’m sure this one time won’t cause him too much grief. I’ll make a note in your chart that that’s why you were late, but I’d get to class as soon as possible so you don’t miss out on anything else.”

“Yes, Father. Thank you so much,” James said, breathing a sigh of relief. He extended his hand to his mentor, shaking it before bowing his head as the elder clergyman passed them both by and headed down the hallway. James held his breath, listening as Father Greg’s footsteps faded away little by little, before turning to make sure he and Steve were both in the clear. The moment he saw the hallway deserted around them once again, he grabbed Steve’s arm, yanking him into the nearest empty classroom before closing the door behind him. “What the hell was that?”

Steve blinked, taken aback by James’ response. He hesitated for a long moment, jaw hanging open as if he were struggling to find the words to speak. “W-what?” he asked, intelligently.

James shook his head, his fingers still wrapped in a vice grip around his elbow. He could feel himself trembling as adrenaline slowly faded from his body, and he slumped into Steve’s chest with a faint laugh. “My God, Steve that was… that was _amazing_ ,” he breathed, trying his very best not to burst into laughter. They might have been alone at that moment, but his classroom was right next door. He didn’t need anyone else coming to investigate what the laughter was all about.

In his grip, Steve relaxed significantly and wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders. He leaned into his grasp, pressing his lips to the crown of his head with a snort. “So, do you think I’m going to hell for lying to a priest, Buck? ‘Cause, holy shit, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t say that,” James snickered, shaking his head on his shoulder fondly. “Because if you say that, then that means I have to admit it too.”

“Okay, so we’re both denying it now. Awesome. I can feel my soul burning up as we speak.”

James laughed, a little louder this time, and he clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his snickers. “Oh my… I thought we were done for. That was… that was way too close. Where did you even pull that from anyway? It was so believable!”

Steve just shrugged in response, his eyes dancing merrily in the low light of the classroom. He reached up to cup at James’ jaw, and he leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I dunno either, but fuck me, I am _not_ gonna take that for granted. All that matters is it worked. No one’s getting in trouble tonight.”

James nodded, leaning up into the kiss a little deeper. He reached up to cup at the back of Steve’s neck, nipping his lower lip sharply before he spoke again. As he did so, he felt a little pang of regret in his chest and he sighed. “I have to go. I’m really going to be late now.”

Steve nodded in return, though he didn’t move to let go of James either. “Yeah, I know. How long is this class even supposed to be?”

“90 minutes,” James said, smirking. “And I’ve already missed thirty of them.” They both fell silent for a moment, and James held back a stubborn whine. “I don’t want to go. I’d rather go home with you.”

“You have to go, babe,” Steve replied, though he sounded just as reluctant as James. “Are you gonna take transport back home after class is over? ‘Cause if you want, I can come back and get you so you don’t have to take the bus.”

“I thought you had a client tonight?” James asked.

Steve nodded. “I do, but not until later. I have plenty of time to get cleaned up and still pick you up. What do you say?”

James thought about it for a moment, though he knew it wouldn’t take much thought to decide what he would say. “Yes, I’d like you to pick me up,” he said smiling at him. “Gives me a chance to give you a proper goodbye before you head to work then.”

“Aw shucks babe, you’re too nice.”

James beamed at him, feeling a lot better than he had moments ago. With the prospect that he’d get to see Steve for at least a little while longer after class, he happily scooped his bag back up before pulling Steve into one last kiss. He lingered for a moment, shivering in delight as he felt the blond’s fingers trace up and down his side, much like they had in the dance studio. That thought alone was enough to make his skin prickle with residual pleasure, and he bit back a little moan. “I really have to go,” he mumbled against his lips.

“Then get outta here,” Steve laughed. He finally broke the kiss (again, very reluctantly, James noted with pride) before pushing him out the door to the hallway once more. “Go, get biblical. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Okay, Stevie,” James replied, walking backwards as he waved to him. As he did so, his eyes trailed down to the red jacket Steve wore religiously now, and his smile turned into a knowing smirk. “Am I ever gonna get my red jacket back from you? Or have you robbed me in plain sight?”

Steve stumbled to a halt in his own retreat, his hand frozen mid-wave for a split second. His eyes widened a fraction, and he tore his gaze away from James to look down at the jacket wrapped around his torso as if he were really seeing it for the first time. But his surprise didn’t last long. A moment later, he offered up a faint laugh, huffing through his nose before he spoke again. “Yeah, I guess I kinda did steal it from you. I mean, if you really want it back-”

“No, no,” James said, waving him off. “Keep it. Red looks good on you, you know?”

“Yeah… red,” Steve said, his voice trailing off. For a moment, the air hung awkwardly between them before Steve offered a final “bye” before turning and vacating the hallway at last.

James blinked, watching his boyfriend retreat like his ass was on fire. The sudden exit had James reeling just the slightest bit, wondering vaguely if he’d said something to offend Steve. His earlier cheer faded away to nothing, and his shoulders slumped as worry overtook him. He didn’t give himself a chance to dwell on it too long, however. Not when he was so, _so_ terribly late.

Deciding that he’d worry about what he might have said later, James quickly darted down the hallway and slipped into the classroom. His entrance was near silent, and he offered up a sheepish look to his professor when the old man caught sight of him sneaking into the back of the room. He, of course, got the Godly death-glare from the old man, and he felt himself shrinking back from the visible wrath in his brown eyes, but he didn’t let that sway him. Instead, he slipped into his seat, pulling out the first notebook he could find, and began to jot down as many of the notes on the board as he could, all while trying not to think about Steve’s departure and his own big mouth.

He failed spectacularly.

It didn’t take long for some relief to find its way to James, though. About ten minutes into scribbling down his notes, James felt his phone buzz silently in his pocket. Without even thinking, he dipped his hand into his pocket to pull it out and check it under the table. Almost instantly, his eyes lit up at Steve’s number on the screen, and the text message left there.

**SR [8:38pm] Before you ask, no you didn’t say anything to offend me. I could see it in your eyes. I left so suddenly because I knew if I didn’t you’d just stand in the hallway giving me gooey eyes all night. ;)**

**SR [8:38pm]: Not that I wouldn’t have done the same either <3**

James stared at the message for a moment, and felt as bubble of a giggle try to escape him. He bit his lip hard, holding back the snicker before his thumb swiped over the screen to shoot him back a message.

**JB [8:40pm]: Just go get clean before work. If only we had time between my class and your client that we could pre-game your night, you and me (I hope pre-game is the right word :O )**

**SR [8:45pm]: Pregame is totally the right word, and I have NO problem taking two showers, as long as you don’t mind sharing your froofy body wash >:) **

James felt his cheeks flushing, and he couldn’t stop the huff of laughter from escaping him. He glanced up to see if his table mate had heard him, or if he’d been spotted texting, but no. Everyone around him was totally invested in their notebooks and textbooks, while the professor droned on monotonously about pastoral lectures.

 _‘God, I’m making plans to go have sex after class, and I’m sitting here in a lecture listening to Leviticus,’_ James thought to himself. The irony was so great, his head actually spun and he slumped back in his chair to give himself a moment.

This was it… this was his life now. His days had become a revolving door of class, prayer and peer collaboration in a church, followed by nights of not so innocent jokes, nude massages, and the best sex he could ever imagine having in any lifetime. And yes, he damn well did make gooey eyes at Steve Rogers, who could honestly blame him? If God didn’t exist, then Steve was the next closest figure to fill that position, and James knew for a fact he would have no problem kneeling to worship him on a daily basis.

 _‘Oh God,’_ James thought to himself flushing beet red. He slumped forward, forehead going into the table as his mind ran rampant with that thought. Well, there went not breaking that second Commandment. _‘Forgive me, Father for I have definitely… **definitely** sinned…’_

* * *

 

Steve arrived home to jump in the shower at approximately 8:55pm. With half an hour to spare before he had to go and get James, he made a beeline for the apartment door, his keys already jingling in the air as he unlocked his apartment and slipped inside.

The rooms were dark, save for the light coming through the window to his right. The moonlight cast a soft, silver glow against the floor, stretched out across the room in a warped rectangle that barely illuminated his path. That was okay. He knew this apartment like the back of his hand. He could navigate this place blind.

Which was why he nearly had a heart attack when he tripped over a pair of extended legs a moment later, and nearly went face first into the floor.

“And _where_ have you been, young man? You know it’s way past your curfew. You had your mother and I really worried.”

Steve listened, gasping around his heart lodged in his throat, before his hand shot out to grab at the nearest lamp. The moment the room was flooded in light, he saw Tony Stark sitting on his sofa with his legs extended and crossed at the ankles, and a glass of his coveted Midleton Very Rare in hand. “What the fuck, Tony?!” Steve snapped, straightening himself out. He shot the other a vicious glare, as if he could burn a hole through his big, stupid forehead with his eyes alone. “How the Goddamn _fuck_ did you get in my apartment?!”

“Listen here, Nell Gwyn, you are not the only degenerate around here that knows how to break into places. Shame on you for being so arrogant to think you’re the only asshole that skirts the law on a daily basis,” Tony sighed. Climbing to his feet, he took a sip of his whisky before giving Steve an appraising look. “So really, where the hell were you? The amount of time you put into getting ready to get boned by random strangers surpasses all expectations of your average teenage girl, and yet here you are coming in at almost 9 o’clock at night and you haven’t even showered yet. What gives? Where the hell have you been all day?”

“That is none of your damn business,” Steve growled, pointing at the door. “Get out and go to your club. I’m sure you’re late for opening, since you decided to _sneak into my apartment_.”

“I’m not late, Natasha is there. Besides, she knows _exactly_ where I am, and where you’re supposed to be. The wild card neither of us have quite figured out, though, is where exactly the good Reverend Barnes is on this fine night.”

It was a punch to the gut. Tony’s words struck Steve and he reeled back, completely winded by the statement. How... _how_ did Tony know about James? Did Natasha rat him out to her boss?! “Who… I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said, hoping like hell he could channel the easy lie he’d offered to Father Greg earlier that evening.

“Oh, gimme a break. You can’t lie for shit, Rogers,” Tony said. He took another, nonchalant sip of his whisky before jabbing a finger in his direction. “Is that where you were tonight? I betcha it was, and if I ask my eyes in the sky what he’s seen lately, he can probably confirm just that for me. So why don’t you just come clean and admit it now. Save us all the headache.”

“You can tell Barton to go to hell,” Steve said, his hands fisting at his sides.

“Now that’s not a nice thing to say about people,” Tony said, cocking his head at him. For a moment, they both held fast, staring the other down as the moments ticked by. After a beat, Tony offered up a sigh, and glanced down. “What color is my shirt?”

The question was so random, it actually made Steve laugh at this whole, absurd moment. In fact, it was _so_ strange, Steve wondered if the guy wasn’t already drunk. It wouldn’t surprise him if he was. “... what? The fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the damn question, Steve.”

In an instant, Steve’s hackles raised again, and he offered Tony a glare. This was total bullshit, all of it! First breaking into his apartment, now playing these stupid mind games trying to weed out some answer Steve didn’t even know he was looking for. After a moment, he turned away and paced the living room, trying his best not to lose his temper. As much as he considered Tony a close friend, there were just days he wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth down his Goddamn throat. “How the hell should I know, Tony?” he finally said, his words biting with resentment. “It fuckin’ looks brown to me.”

Tony crowed, clapping his hands before offering a twisted smile in return. “‘Atta boy, I knew it was the real you. There isn’t another Brooklynite in the whole city that’s as colorblind as your ass. Good to know we don’t have a doppelganger running around with your pretty face on.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve demanded, now really frustrated. Punching Tony in the nose was really starting to look like a solid option…

“Okay, okay, you passed the test, bravo,” Tony added, brushing off Steve’s obvious irritation. “I just had to make sure it was the real you, ya know? ‘Cause God knows only a fake Steve Rogers would purposefully stick own his ass this far in the shitter. Now I just know you’re being a dumbass. I can handle dumbassery.”

 _“Get to the point,_ ” Steve gritted out between his teeth. He clenched his hands at his sides, his fists shaking just the slightest bit as he waited for Tony to regale him with whatever fucking words of wisdom he had to bestow upon him. From the look of the near empty bottle on his kitchen table, Tony probably had a whole speech prepared.

Tony waved his hand, taking another drink from his glass before putting it down momentarily. “Point being, you’re getting sloppy as shit, and I can only attribute it to old age finally getting to you. How’s your back by the way? Heard you stopped going to the massage therapist, which I think is a shame. You really gotta loosen them hips up a little if you’re gonna do the mean mamba with a cougar, ya know what I mean?” Tony paused, gyrating his hips a little before he held his hand up to stop Steve from interjecting.

“Anyway, Barton saw you and Barnes the other day. The two of you were lookin’ mighty chummy from what he told me. He didn’t quite say you two were holding hands, but the way he described it was, and I quote “like watchin’ two soda shop teeny boppers making eyes. I half expected them to pull out two straws and share the same milkshake”. Apparently your PDA was so grotesque it nauseated him. You owe him big for that, by the way.”

Steve listened to Tony’s explanation, and his shoulders slumped. At last, it finally made sense. The looks he’d been getting from Natasha. The snide comments from Tony at every turn possible. Clearly, Steve hadn’t been covering his tracks very well, and in the end it hadn’t been his own secret that had been jeopardized.

But… Clint hadn’t stated he’d seen them holding hands or kissing; they most certainly had been doing just that at the coffee shop, but apparently they’d been just out of sight for their “date” to remain ambiguous. Perhaps they’d been caught out in public together… but that didn’t mean their relationship was outed just yet. “Okay, fine,” Steve sighed, feigning giving up as he offered Tony a sorry look. “You got me. I was hanging out with James tonight. Is that such a Goddamn crime that you have to pull a B&E on my apartment like Batman or some shit?”

“It is a crime if that priest of yours figures he’s had enough of hanging out with a _prostitute_ and decides that it’s God’s will to turn your ass over to the cops,” Tony said, his light tone replaced with a seething disappointment. “Seriously, Steve, you used to be so careful! Now you’re just throwing away all your dice because you got a boner-crush on a clergyman. For the love of all that is holy, and I mean that with all the respect to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost _, please_ tell me you’ve kept it PG with him. I can’t afford an aneurysm tonight if I find out he’s been bowing to the wrong guy lately.”

“Oh for _crying out loud_!” Steve growled, throwing his hands up. First Natasha, now Tony… it was like the whole fucking world was on their case, and no one even had any concrete proof that their relationship had progressed! If either of them knew they actually _were_ fucking on the regular now, Steve didn’t want to think what kind of civil war that might cause. “Are you two gonna ride my ass about him forever? James is my friend, I met him when he saved my ass from getting hammered by Strucker’s muscle. That’s all!”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re absolutely positive you’re not lying to me and you’re not doing anything else with him?”

Steve stared at Tony, feeling his face blooming pink with frustration. Normally, he’d have some sort of witty response to offer him, maybe some snide comment to really fluster the bastard and get him to back off, but this time he had run dry of any good comebacks. Naturally, it was kind of hard to think on the cuff, when he was literally lying through his teeth to one of the few friends he had on this Earth. Tony had been right; Steve couldn’t lie for shit.

“Tony,” Steve said, trying his best for patience. “Listen. Nothing’s happening alright? I was hanging out with him tonight, I dropped him off at his class, and I came back here. That’s it. Now can you tell Barton to stop spying on me? I don’t need a shadow on my tail all the time, I can take care of myself.” With that, Steve fell silent, hoping like hell he’d finally convinced Tony to let it lie.

Tony listened to his explanation, before turning away and crossing to the kitchen. With a hiss, he downed the rest of his whisky in one swallow before filling up once more, as if he were biding his time. Steve felt every hair on his body stand up in anxiety as he watched Tony mull over his lie, mentally tearing it apart for any crack in his alibi. After a long, painful moment, during which Steve felt like he was going to crawl right out of his skin and shriek at the top of his lungs to just let the interrogation end, Tony turned back to Steve and leveled him with a neutral look. “How many times have you had sex with him, Steve?”

“Tony-” Steve said, hoping like hell the breathless tone in his voice came off more angry than shocked. From the look on Tony’s face, he seemed 100% convinced that Steve was lying to him, and with his arsenal of deception run completely dry, Steve knew he was never going to talk his way out of this one. Mother of God, if only Stark had applied his smarts to something useful, instead of opening a swanky club in the middle of Brooklyn; he might have turned out to be a genius billionaire if he’d applied that sort of commitment to the real world. He sure as hell already had the playboy part down pat.

But Tony didn’t let him finish. Instead, he held his hand up to Steve, silencing him before he crossed the room. That hand came down, clapping over Steve’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Okay, fine… that was out of line, I take it back. You say you’re not having sex with him, you’re not. I believe you. But you have _got_ to think about this for a minute, Steve-o. You got yourself tangled up in a mess with Strucker, and you dragged those meat-heads to an innocent Deacon’s doorstep. The fuckers know what he looks like now. So if you and Barnes are really just having some innocent friendship and there’s nothing going on, then what are you gonna do if Strucker decides to get a bug up his ass about you again and go after James? How bad are you gonna feel if they decide to take out any aggression on your friend?”

“Strucker won’t do that. I already took care of it,” Steve said, giving him a firm look.

“Sure you did,” Tony said sighing openly. From the look of it, he was just as done with the conversation as Steve was. With that, he pulled away from Steve’s side and picked up the bottle of whisky he’d brought with him. Fisting it by the neck, Tony moved to finally leave the apartment, his frown absolute. But then, he paused when he approached Steve’s front door, turning back on his heel to give Steve one last look. “I mean it, Steve. Do not sleep with him. _Ever_. You have no idea what kind of trouble you’re going to get the both of you in if you decide to give into that temptation. You need to think about what kind of repercussions that could have on you, _and_ him. You’re my friend, Steve. I don’t want to wake up one day and find both your names plastered all over the front of the newspaper. You hear me?”

Steve listened to him, his earlier irritation melting away at long last. Now, he just felt raw and exposed, as if this short conversation had splayed him open and left him gutted on the floor. With a careful look, he glanced at the clock, wincing internally. It was nearly time for him to pick up James from the seminary like he’d promised him. Well, so much for getting to take a shower… “I swear, Tony. Nothing’s happening. He’s… he’s not like that to me. We’re just friends.”

And that right there, was the kicker. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d actually have to lie about being in love with someone as deeply as he was. But as the words rolled off his tongue and stained the air around him, Steve felt his gut clench up and his breath catch in his chest. Almost instantly, he wanted to take those words back and just admit everything to Tony, because to Steve, the guilt of lying about his relationship with James felt like the deepest of betrayals. The nausea he felt in his guilt made him sway in his spot and he wanted nothing more than to snatch the bottle from Tony’s hands and chug down the remainder of its contents just to numb the ache in his heart.

But he wouldn’t dare admit it and give up James’ carefully constructed secret. He’d kept his mouth shut earlier that evening to a priest. He’d lied to one of his few friends. He could keep their relationship a secret for however long he needed to. For the sake of James’ comfort, he _had_ to.

It seemed to do the trick. At long last, Tony nodded, mutely accepting his word as gospel before taking his leave and leaving Steve all alone once again. The moment the door shut again, cutting Steve off from the rest of the world, Steve grabbed the nearest couch pillow to his left and screamed into the cushion, letting out the bottled up anxiety that had been ready to burst its cork the entire interrogation he just went through. Taking a deep breath, Steve did it again, and again, his fingers digging into the pillow hard enough to rip the fabric as he practically screamed himself hoarse. But with each frustrated yell, he finally felt that anxiety fading away, replaced by frustration and hopelessness. When he finally dropped the pillow back down to the couch, he allowed the silence of the apartment to wash over him like the final curtain in this fucked-up scene of his life. That silence did little to calm down his anger, however, and Steve found himself pacing in his spot, agonizing over what had just transpired and picking through the details with a fine-toothed comb.

They’d almost been caught two times in _one night._ It was absurd! It was almost like God himself was testing their resolve, seeing how long they could duck the inevitable before everyone found out that a Deacon had been tempted by a prostitute and succumb to the dark side. Steve huffed a short laugh through his nose, cynical and derisive, and he slumped back against the wall in defeat.

Dammit… this wasn’t fair! It really hadn’t occurred to Steve exactly how un-fucking-fair this was, until the whole world tried its best to worm its way into their relationship like a nosy fucking dog trying to uproot the happiness they both felt. Frustrated, he allowed himself to feel bitter about this whole arrangement. He allowed himself to feel bitter that the world had such a problem with two guys like themselves being in love. He allowed himself to be bitter at the stigma that a holy man and a sinner like himself had to keep their distance, instead of openly caring for each other just for who they were. And for the briefest moment, Steve allowed himself to feel bitter towards James, for making him keep their relationship a secret when he wanted nothing more than to show the whole universe how fucking in love with the idiot he was.

Almost instantly, Steve growled, slapping the side of his head to knock those thoughts away. No… no it wasn’t James’ fault, how could he let himself think that?! It wasn’t his fault that he had to hide his romance simply because the world had a major fucking stick up its ass about the two of them. It wasn’t his fault that just because their careers were so different, James had to keep his hands off of Steve like he was some leper.

It shouldn’t have been any different than any other couple with vastly different career paths. A realtor and a construction worker were allowed to be in a relationship, because those professions were just fucking _jobs_ , not a way of life! Being a priest was a job. Being a sex worker was a job. They were both a means of income according to Steve, and he just didn’t understand why James couldn’t take a career he was passionate about and supplement it with someone he cared for and loved. That’s what wasn’t fair about it. Why couldn’t a priest allow himself to fall in love and feel pleasure? What the hell was so fucking wrong about James tasting that _supposedly_ forbidden fruit, when it didn’t do a damn bit of harm to anyone?

Steve swallowed, feeling that rising nausea of guilt finally overtaking him at the reality of this whole, nasty scenario. Damn himself, how could he have had such a negative thought towards James, when James was the one that faced the bigger repercussion? It wasn’t like Steve would get excommunicated or exiled if someone else found out he was sleeping with James.

Then and there, Steve understood exactly how far he’d gone. He understood how much he’d desecrated the promise he’d made to James to love and care for him no matter what. For the split second he’d allowed himself to feel angry at James for simply allowing himself some self-preservation, Steve had been just like everyone else, and he _hated_ himself for it.

With that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Steve grabbed his keys and stormed out of his apartment to go and pick James up, just like he’d promised him. During the entire ride to the seminary, he kept his eyes locked on the road, his fingers a vice grip around the steering wheel of his car as he tried to put the whole, shitty experience behind him. When he arrived and found James standing outside, smoking a cigarette as he waited for him, Steve did his best to plaster on the biggest smile he could muster as James grinned and threw out the cigarette to bound into his car like an overeager puppy. It wouldn’t do him any good to tell James about their second near-miss. They’d both already had one close-call to deal with together.

His resolve to ignore what had happened didn’t last. Despite the smile he wore on his lips, Steve felt the acrid burn of regret pulsing in his heart as he remained silent, listening to James prattle on about his class period, about how bored he’d been and how unenthusiastic he was about having to redo a paper that the professor had “somehow” lost in the grade book. He nodded in all the right spots, trying not to let his emotions show on his face, and suffered in silence as those horrid thoughts slowly wormed their way into the back of his mind to rest for good.

That suffering didn’t last however. As he drove, turning onto the boulevard that would take him to James’ brownstone, he felt the brush of James’ prosthetic hand on his thigh. He looked down briefly, seeing the black leather against his leg before he caught sight of James watching him. Even from here, he could see the delight in James’ eyes, the faint burning want for Steve in the depths of his blue-grey eyes, and Steve’s cheeks flushed as he swallowed around the lump stuck in his throat.

Almost instantly, his reservations flew right out the car window as he drove, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. That one, single look ignited the fire of passion for James in the pit of his stomach and for a moment that acidic regret was doused, overtaken by his sheer devotion for the extraordinary human at his right. Fuck the other inspirational stories of the century. Under Steve’s tutelage and watchful gaze, James had morphed from a shy, skittish and easily swayed human being into a god, the epitome of a burning supernova of strength, innocence and uninhibited desire to love with all of his perfect heart. And Steve had been lucky enough to witness that transformation with his own two eyes.

It was incredible, he told himself. It was incredible how much James had grown over the past few weeks. He’d become much more outspoken about things he liked or disliked, had started laughing at raunchy jokes instead of blushing and hiding his face, and had even stunned Steve with a sarcastic interjection here and there when Steve decided to be an idiot and let his temper get the better of him. He’d become much less inhibited about his disability and openly embraced it. Fuck, he’d even sent Steve a _Monty Python joke_ about his arm after he’d complained extensively about the chafing his prosthetic had given him one day. The old James would have never made jokes like that!

Steve stifled a whine, throwing the car into park the minute they were outside his house, and got out to drag James along with him. As he watched James fumble his keys out to let them both inside, Steve made a decision then and there. He wouldn’t _dare_ take this away from James, and he wouldn’t _dare_ let anyone try to intercede in their relationship. No matter how hard it got, no matter how many people tried to question their “friendship” and try to tell them they couldn’t be together, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. James would be the only one to decide how far their relationship went, and for how long. And God help him, Steve would _die_ fighting for that right to be given to James.

The moment the door was shut behind them, Steve turned on James, pushing him up against the wall. His fingers tightened on James’ hips as he leaned in, pressing the Deacon into a deep kiss. Beneath him, he felt James gasp at the biting touch before he went lax, his own arm coming up to wrap around the back of his neck tightly. Just like the sweetest candy, Steve stifled a moan as he licked his way into James’ mouth, savoring his warmth and wetness as he drew him closer to allow the other to grind against him.

For a moment, neither man broke the contact. Fingers traced nonsense patterns into skin, lips caressed and tongues entangled each other, lapping into warm recesses and marking up the other happily. Beneath him, Steve heard James utter a low moan, sounding absolutely delighted at the sudden insistence Steve bestowed upon him. He fed that delight by nipping at James’ lip a little harder, swelling the skin between his teeth as his hands traced down to thread beneath the hem of his black pants and cup at his backside gently.

“Mmm, Steve…” James moaned, biting through the heady pleasure to speak up. His hips rocked forward, guided by Steve’s fingers as he ground into his front, already painfully interested in what was going on. “You’re really… really eager. Did you miss me for that whole hour I was gone?”

“You bet,” Steve mumbled. He pulled away enough to press his teeth into the side of James’ neck, just below his jaw, and he nipped the skin sharply until it welted. He felt James shudder hard at the bite, and he tightened his grip to keep him upright. “Lemme just feel you… just in case…”

James whimpered, though the sound was layered with the faintest concern. His thoughts visibly broke through the haze of his pleasure and he tore his gaze open to meet Steve’s eyes once more. “Just in case of what?” he asked.

Steve didn’t answer him. His fingers only tightened on James’ body, gripping him firmly as he tried to push on, to ignore the concern burning visibly in James’ eyes. However, as he leaned in to mark that glorious, smooth skin up once more, he felt James’ hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“Steve,” James said, sounding insistent. His eyes had hardened a little, not in anger, but in concern and offense that Steve would not share his problem with him. “Steve, what’s wrong? What do you mean by, ‘just in case’?”

He didn’t know what to say. Instantly, the memory of Tony talking to him came to mind, and he bit back the anger and despair that had taken over him earlier. No. He wasn’t going to let this affect him. He had James now. That’s all that mattered. “Nothing… I just mean, in case we don’t get to do this for a while,” he said, the lie rolling off his tongue a little easier. Funny how lying had become a part of his repertoire lately…

For a moment, James didn’t look like he was going to believe him. His eyes remained narrowed, and he huffed a sigh through his nose. After a moment, he seemed to push whatever thought he was having from his mind, and he leaned in, letting his lips brush over Steve’s in a gentle caress. “I agree with you,” he said. As he spoke, a dangerous glint overtook his grey eyes and he gripped Steve’s waist. Turning him, he pressed the blond’s back to the wall, reversing their positions before he met Steve’s gaze with a gentle burn in his own. As he did, he slowly lowered himself to kneel in front of Steve as he gazed up at him, reverently promising him everything he could give as he reached up and plucked the sweatpants from his hips. “So we better make the best of it, shouldn’t we?”

Steve watched him, his eyes widening as James took a bold first step. He held his breath as James worked diligently, surveying his cock before leaning in and brushing the tip of his tongue up the length of his half hard dick, slow and sweet. Almost instantly, Steve felt his cheeks flush, and he groaned as his cock filled in, enticed by the idea that James was actually going to blow him. James hadn’t done it before; frankly, he was _very_ interested to see how he did on his first try.

James paid no attention to him. Instead, he focused on his dick, reaching up to wrap his fingers around his length and pull him into his mouth. He was warm, slick and wet, and James hummed a faint note in the back of his throat as he slowly bobbed his head back and forth, grazing the circle of his lips over Steve’s cock in quick, uneven strokes.

Steve groaned, feeling that warm, wet suction around him soaking into his very bones. He slumped, letting his eyes drift shut as he relished this virgin attempt from his very eager boyfriend. As he lounged back against the wall, he reached up and brushed his fingers through the brown locks of his hair, before giving the strands a tug. He allowed himself to relish in the feeling, his eyes drifting shut as he finally pushed the negative thoughts that had been plaguing him over the past hour to live in the moment, with his dick down his boyfriend’s throat.

The feeling of James’ tongue tickling a velvet brush along his skin had Steve’s knees going weak with the sensation. The teasing touch sent shivers up and down Steve’s spine, though he fought to keep his hips from bucking forward to assist in his actions. It wasn’t a particularly good blowjob; James was a little too eager to suck, his lips and tongue were uncoordinated in stroking him through his pleasure, and the faint graze of his teeth was the slightest bit uncomfortable. It was the enthusiasm with which James performed for Steve that made all the difference. Tearing his eyes open, he looked down at his lover, watching as James focused on his task with the attentiveness of a man on a mission, his eyes shut and a happy little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. That, in itself, meant the world to Steve, and he felt his stomach clenching in delight at that sight.

Deciding to try and give him some help, to teach him how to work without tiring his jaw or scraping him, Steve reached down and gently tugged on the hair slightly, to slow his actions down. He offered up a smile when James opened his eyes to look up at him through his lashes, look way too innocent for someone who had his lips still wrapped around his cock. “Slow down baby,” Steve growled. “You’re gonna choke yourself if you go too fast.”

James nodded, and immediately slowed the pace down. With more even, slow brushes, he focused on his work, happily nuzzling into Steve’s palm with each backstroke of his motions.  He hummed once again, glancing up at Steve to offer him a loving look as he worshipped him with everything in his heart. Every so often, he twisted his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking where his lips could not reach, before he bobbed just a little bit deeper and pulling back to stroke and suck in tandem.

Steve moaned a little louder, letting his head thump back against the wall as he tugged the dark strands of his hair sharply. Each time he twisted his fingers, James sucked a little more eagerly, pulling off to lap at his dick before taking him down and resuming his motions. Even still, with the assistance Steve gave, his teeth still grazed his cock, sending tiny little shocks of pain/pleasure to his very core. This went on for a few minutes as Steve slowly drew closer to climax, until suddenly, one particular bob of his head at a strange angle had James’ canine digging into his dick without warning.

The accidental graze of his tooth caused a chain reaction of events: Steve jerked at the motion, yelping a little at the sharp pain, though for some strange reason his hips bucked _forward_ , instead of pulling away from the offending teeth. His sudden jerk caused his dick to thrust deeper into James’ mouth and jab at the back of his throat which caused James to flinch, choking on the sudden, blunt round of his dick gagging him. Almost instantly, James yanked away from Steve’s hips, collapsing back to sit on the floor as he coughed and hacked, trying to get his gag reflex to calm down. His face was bright red at the sudden intrusion, his eyes watering visibly and his breathing shaky and thick as he wiped at the saliva on his mouth obsessively to hold back his heaving coughs as much as he could.

Steve cursed, taking only a split second to process what had just happened before he dropped down to kneel in front of James. He reached out, tenderly cupping the back of his neck as he pulled the wheezing Deacon into his arms and rubbed his back in soothing strokes. “ _Shit_ , Buck. Are you okay? Did I hurt you, baby?”

“N-No,” James coughed, flushing red in embarrassment as he leaned into Steve’s arms. He allowed Steve to hold him close, pushing his face into his shoulder. “I’m okay. Are you? Did I do it wrong?” Taking a long, shaky breath, James lifted his head from Steve’s shoulder and gave him a deeply apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I messed it up, didn’t I?”

The poor thing… his first attempt at giving a blowjob and Steve had gagged him. It was a rookie mistake on both their parts, and Steve silently kicked himself for it. It would be just their luck if James was too scared to try it again and Steve knew that was exactly what would happen if he continued to fawn over him like a worried mother. Like hell would Steve let that happen, not when James was doing so well coming out as his own man. “ _No_ , babydoll you didn’t mess it up,” Steve said, kissing his forehead lovingly. “I promise, you were doing really good. We just gotta get those teeth under control, that’s all.”

James listened to him, his eyes brightening a little at his reaffirmation. “Really?” he asked, hopefully. When Steve offered him a nod and a wink, James flushed happily, and he leaned in to press a happy kiss to Steve’ lips. “M-maybe you can show me how… I mean, instead of just _doing_ it, you know? When you do it, it always feels so good…”

Steve smirked, recognizing the request in his words. _Of course_ he would show James. He’d help him with anything he wanted in this world. Fuck, Steve would bend over backwards and move mountains for James, even if it was just for the smallest request. “You bet… want me to show you now? I have three hours before I have to go meet my client… if you’re not sick of me already, that is.”

“I’d never be sick of you,” James said, squirming happily in Steve’s grip. “I’d love for you to show me how you do it. If you’re not scared off by my horrible attempt.”

“Never,” Steve said, confidently. He got to his feet and pulled his sweatpants up his legs before grabbing James’ hand. With a careful touch, he helped him to his feet and guided him to the bedroom, their fingers tangling together as they went. As giddy as teenage lovers, the two of them exchanged meaningful looks, giggling to each other as Steve led James through the door and immediately to the bed. With a firm hand, Steve pushed James down onto the mattress, watching him bounce a little as he climbed on top to press him into another kiss. This one, unlike their previous kiss, was slow and sweet, and Steve took his time to revel in James’ unique flavor, coupled with the faintest traces of his own musk on his tongue. For a moment, neither of them spoke, just soaking up the feeling of the other’s warmth, the dance of tongue against tongue, and the pleasure of being together in the way they were both designed to be.

After a moment, Steve broke the kiss to give James a gleeful look. His glance was met with equal enthusiasm, as James watched him, ready and eager to learn from the master.  “Now, Deacon… make sure you pay attention, because this lesson is very important. Do you believe you’re up for the challenge?”

“Yes, sir,” James said, nodding up at him as he cupped his hand over his neck in a tender touch. “I am _definitely_ up for it. Teach me your ways.”

“Alright then. Take off those pants, and let’s get to work.”

With that, James nodded once, sitting up. His hand went to his black pants, pushing them down his hips before throwing the cloth to the floor and lounging back to splay himself naked to Steve. Steve took a moment, admiring the lean cuts of James’ thighs, the jut of his cock standing erect from his hips, and the happy flush on his baby’s cheeks. It was the perfect scene, and Steve took his time to admire and soak it all in. He always loved taking in as much of James as he could before he met his clients; having a clear picture of his lover in his mind made it easier to fantasize about making love to James while he serviced some nameless face that had only hired him for an emotionless fuck.

As Steve dropped down to his knees at the edge of the bed, rattling off the cardinal rules of giving the perfect blowjob to his eager student, Steve allowed himself to ruminate over his night. Yeah… this right here, this heavenly moment between two men that had grown to love each other so deeply, had _definitely_ been designed by God _,_ of all people. How else was it that the two of them were just so damn perfect together, without even trying? What else could it mean when Steve felt whole and complete with James in his arms, like the other half of his soul had finally been found in this dirty, cruel world?

Then and there, Steve made a decision. Fuck everyone else that tried to intervene in their perfect relationship. He wouldn’t allow _anyone_ to try and intercept their coupling and make them both feel like sinners for allowing themselves to love each other exactly as they were destined to. He wouldn’t allow them the satisfaction of winning, and he certainly wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for lying or keeping their relationship a secret. It wasn’t like it was anyone else’s business what they did anyway.

With that promise to himself, Steve went to work, listening to the heavenly song of James’ pleased moans as he sucked him off expertly. Yeah… this right here, was worth every second they fibbed to the rest of the world. Seeing James every single day and making him feel like an angel on this Earth was his calling, and he would spend the rest of his life until his dying breath, making sure that chorus of pleasure and happiness left those perfect lips he worshiped so readily…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY CANT THE WORLD JUST ACCEPT THEIR LOVE?!?! *sobs*
> 
> STICK AROUND FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE STORY, MY LOVELY READERS! There's more to come in these boys' romance!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [TUMBLR](http://steves--winter--boobear.tumblr.com/) MY FLOCK.


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